University  of 

California 

Irvine 


INTRODUCTION  TO  THE 
STUDY  OF  SOCIOLOGY 


INTRODUCTION  TO  THE 
STUDY  OF  SOCIOLOGY 


BY 

EDWARD  GARY  HAYES,  Pn.D. 

2RorEssoR  OF  SOCIOLOGY  IN  THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  ILLINOIS 


//Af 


COPYRIGHT,  1915,  1918,  BT 
D.  APPLETON  AND  COMPANY 


Printed  in  the  United  States  of  Americm 


PREFACE 

This  is  an  elementary  textbook  with  the  limitations  which 
that  fact  implies.  It  is  intended  for  the  use  of  classes  and 
also  for  general  readers  who  desire  a  clearer  view  of  the  field 
of  thought  designated  by  the  much  used  word  "sociology." 

Such  a  book  must  aim  to  serve  two  purposes.  First,  it 
must  present  as  much  as  space  permits  of  the  accepted  results 
of  study  in  this  field,  to  the  reader  who  may  have  no  further 
formal  instruction  in  sociology,  and  whose  further  progress 
will  be  gained  by  independent  thought  and  reading.  Second, 
it  must  afford  to  the  student,  who  will  pursue  more  intensive 
courses  in  subdivisions  of  sociology,  an  outline  of  the  entire 
field,  and  a  sense  of  the  relation  of  those  special  topics,  which 
he  may  later  study  more  intensively,  to  the  subject  as  a  whole. 
Each  of  these  purposes  requires  the  elementary  textbook  to 
be  compendious  so  as  to  afford  a  view  in  perspective.  The 
best  bopks  in  sociology  have  been  written  by  men  who  were 
contributing  actively  to  the  new  body  of  teaching,  and  who 
have  been  too  much  preoccupied  with  the  original  materials, 
in  the  production  of  which  their  minds  were  engaged,  to  give 
adequate  time  and  space  to  the  contributions  of  others.  As  a. 
consequence,  it  is  hardly  too  much  to  say  of  the  textbooks  in 
sociology  which  have  thus  far  been  produced,  that  in  propor- 
tion to  their  originality  and  intellectual  excellence  has  been 
their  failure  as  compendiums  or  outlines. 

A  compendium  of  sociology  must  include  not  only  a  sum- 
mary of  the  chief  abstract  teachings  in  all  branches  of  the 
subject,  but  also  some  practical  applications,  the  result  of  hard 
experience  and  of  investigation  into  specific  evils  and  their 
causes,  and  of  empirical  efforts  at  reform  as  interpreted  in 
the  light  of  scientific  principles.  This  corresponds  with  the 
practice  of  elementary  textbooks  in  economics,  which  include 
practical  suggestions  on  money,  taxation,  and  labor  problems 


vi  PREFACE 

along  with  theoretical  discussion.  This  practice  interrupts, 
to  a  slight  degree,  the  course  of  scientific  exposition,  but  is 
justified  by  its  usefulness. 

I  have  been  influenced  by  the  example  of  the  best  text- 
i  books  in  economics  and  psychology  to  do  without  a  multitude 
of  footnotes,  but  I  have  inserted  a  considerable  number  of 
references,  (i)  when  it  has  seemed  especially  desirable  to  call 
the  attention  of  the  reader  to  some  passage  that  supplements 
the  text,  or  (2)  to  some  book  that  should  be  universally  asso- 
ciated with  the  particular  doctrine  under  discussion,  or  else 
(3)  to  afford  opportunity  to  verify  some  statement  that  might 
otherwise  be  questioned,  and  (4)  in  case  of  direct  quotation. 

It  might  seem  more  logical  to  reverse  the  order  of  parts 
I  and  2.  As  it  now  stands,  the  book  presents  the  conditions 
which  affect  the  life  of  society  before  it  presents  the  inner 
nature 'of  the  life  of  society.  This  order  has  been  adopted 
because  it  better  develops  the  conception  of  society  as  a  realm 
of  cause  and  effect,  and  also  because  it  places  first  those  mat- 
ters about  which  the  student  already  knows  something,  in 
many  of  which  he  is  already  interested,  which  he  expects  to 
study  when  he  registers  for  a  course  in  sociology,  and  which 
are  more  material  and  easier,  postponing  those  which  are 
more  psychological  and  difficult,  which  would  cause  him  sur- 
prise if  not  disappointment  if  first  presented,  and  for  the 
study  of  which  he  requires  some  preparation,  but  which  are 
the  very  soul  of  the  subject  when  really  understood.  This 
arrangement  is  the  result  of  much  experimentation  during 
thirteen  years  of  teaching  sociology. 

Some  readers  may  be  inclined  to  criticize  the  inclusion  of 
a  few  pages  which  might  have  been  omitted  if  it  had  been 
possible  to  take  for  granted  that  all  students  of  this  text  would 
have  fresh  in  mind  the  facts  and  principles  of  biology,  psy- 
chology, and  economics.  But  it  is  impossible  to  take  that  for 
granted,  and  sociology,  like  general  biology,  requires  some 
reference  to  facts  of  antecedent  sciences. 

In  some  universities  where  numerous  courses  in  sociology 
are  offered,  it  may  be  thought  best  to  omit  portions  of  the  mat- 
ter which  deals  with  charities,  criminology,  and  social  evolu~ 


PREFACE  vii 

tion,  because  these  subjects  are  to  be  covered  by  other  courses. 
And  an  omitted  part  may  be  used  later  in  connection  with  a 
subsequent  course.  Even  in  such  universities,  however,  the 
brief  outline  of  these  topics  here  given  may  preferably  be 
retained  undiminished  as  an  introduction  to  more  extensive 
work,  and  as  bringing  the  parts  of  the  subject  into  their  re- 
lations. 

The  author  desires  to  express  his  thanks  to  the  following 
persons  who  have  read  portions  of  the  book  in  manuscript : 
Professor  Felix  von  Luschan,  of  the  University  of  Berlin, 
who  read  the  part  on  social  evolution ;  Professor  E.  L.  Bogart 
and  Assistant  Professor  R.  E.  Heilman,  of  the  Department  of 
Economics  in  the  University  of  Illinois,  who  read  the  part  on 
the  necessity  for  social  regulation  of  the  distribution  of 
wealth;  Professor  Charles  Zeleny  and  Assistant  Professor 
J.  A.  Detlefsen,  of  the  Departments  of  Zoology  and  of  Genetics 
in  the  University  of  Illinois,  who  read  the  parts  which  utilize 
biological  data.  Of  course  the  kindness  rendered  by  these 
gentlemen  involves  them  in  no  responsibility  for  anything  here 
contained. 

The  book  is  offered  with  the  hope  that  it  may  promote 
comprehension  and  insight,  and  help  some  of  its  readers  to 
''find  themselves,"  with  reference  to  the  perplexing  intellectual 
problems,  the  opportunities,  and  the  responsibilities  of  the  life 
we  live  in  society. 

UNIVERSITY  OF  ILLINOIS. 
October,  1915. 

NOTE  TO  SIXTH  EDITION. 

In  the  sixth  edition  various  typographical  errors  have  been 
corrected.  The  only  important  alterations  in  the  sense  occur 
on  pages  16,  65,  70  and  116.  Complete  new  plates  of  the  in- 
dex were  made  after  the  first  printing. 

May,  igi&. 


CONTENTS 

INTRODUCTION 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.    THE  NATURE  OF  THE  STUDY 3 

Sociology  studies  good  and  bad  alike,  3.  The 
point  of  view,  4.  Art  and  science,  8.  Practical 
application  of  sociology,  10.  The  need  of  a  new 
world  view,  12.  Sociology  as  an  intellectual 
pursuit,  13.  Comte's  hierarchy  of  the  sciences, 
IS- 

II.    WHAT  Is  INVOLVED  IN  SOCIOLOGICAL  EXPLANATION       18 
Causation,  18.     Explanation  and  scientific  law, 
20.     Problem  phenomena,  their  constituent  ele- 
ments, and  their  environing  conditions,  22.    The 
kinds  of  conditioning  phenomena,  24. 

PART  I 

THE  CAUSES  WHICH  AFFECT  THE  LIFE  OF  SOCIETY 
I.  GEOGRAPHIC  CAUSES  WHICH  AFFECT  THE  LIFE  OF  SOCIETY 

III.  GEOGRAPHIC  CAUSES  AND  THEIR  SOCIAL  EFFECTS  .  29 
The  less  conspicuous  geographic  differences  so- 
cially important,  29.  Geographic  conditions  de- 
termine the  size  of  populations,  29.  The  eco- 
nomic occupations  of  a  people  are  determined 
by  their  geographic  environment,  30.  Stagnation 
and  progressiveness  are  conditioned  largely  by 
geographic  surroundings,  31.  Lawlessness  is 
the  natural  consequence  of  geographic  inacces- 
sibility and  poverty  of  natural  resources,  32. 
The  form  of  government  is  affected  by  geo- 
graphic conditions,  32.  Tastes  and  social  and 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

domestic  customs  are  influenced  by  geographic 
conditions,  34.  Ethical  differences  are  largely 
influenced  by  geographic  environment,  34. 
Mythologies  and  religions  are  influenced  by 
geographic  environment,  35.  Geographic  con- 
ditions affect  the  moods  and  psychic  ten- 
dencies of  a  people,  36.  The  routes  fol- 
lowed by  migration,  war,  and  commerce  have 
been  marked  out  by  geographic  highways,  37. 
The  sociological  importance  of  geographic  con- 
ditions, 37.  Limitations  on  the  importance  of 
geographic  conditions,  39. 

II.  TECHNIC  CAUSES  THAT  AFFECT  THE  LIFE  OF  SOCIETY 

IV.    RURAL  CONDITIONS 42 

Formation  of  population,  42.  Population  may 
increase  in  numbers  too  rapidly,  43.  Agrarian 
aristocracy  and  population  pressure,  47.  Den- 
sity and  communication,  50.  Rural  solitude,  51. 
Rural  community,  51.  Hamlet,  51.  Village,  55. 

V.    THE  CITY 60 

Nine  characteristics  of  the  city,  60.  The  growth 
of  cities,  65.  The  causes  of  increasing  urbani- 
zation, 67.  What  makes  Americans  out  of 
Europeans?  70. 

VI.    PERSONAL  GROUPS  AND  CROWDS 74 

Personal  groups,  74.  The  group  of  two,  76. 
The  federal  character  of  large  groups,  77. 
Crowds,  78.  Safeguards  against  crowd  perils, 
81. 

VII.    SOCIAL  EFFECTS  OF  THE  AMOUNT,   FORMS,   AND 

DISTRIBUTION  OF  WEALTH 84 

Effects  of  the  forms  of  wealth,  84.  Transpor- 
tation, 86.  Housing,  87.  Educating  the  public 
on  the  subject  of  housing,  90.  City  planning, 
93.  Municipal  conveniences,  94.  Relation  of 


CONTENTS  xi 

CHAPTER         •  PAGE 

the  distribution  of  wealth  to  sociological  prob- 
lems, 95.  Effects  of  distribution  of  wealth  upon 
the  health  of  the  people,  96.  Poverty  is  effec- 
tive in  preventing  the  attainment  of  the  ethical 
and  cultural  values  of  life,  100.  Actual  dis- 
tribution of  wealth  in  the  United  States,  103. 

VIII.  THE  INADEQUACY  OF  ECONOMIC  LAW  TO  EXPLAIN 
OR  CONTROL  JUSTLY  THE  DISTRIBUTION  OF 
WEALTH  AND  THE  NECESSITY  OF  SOCIAL  CON- 
TROL  109 

Why  do  we  have  so  much  poverty  in  our  rich 
land?  109.  Labor  bought  at  forced  sale,  no. 
Labor  not  protected  by  cost  of  production,  in. 
The  differential,  112.  No  share  in  primary  dis- 
tribution, 115.  Organization,  116.  Though 
present  distribution  is  indefensible,  equality  of 
incomes  is  neither  expedient,  just,  nor  feasible, 
117.  What  of  the  rank  and  file?  118.  Do  we 
need  plutocrats?  119.  Wealth  as  success,  119. 
Competition  as  a  cure-all,  121.  Should  the 
manager  retain  all  that  his  activity  at  present 
conditions?  125.  Gains  from  chance  and  from 
foresight,  126.  Gains  of  organization,  127. 
Gains  of  bargaining  power,  128.  Conclusion, 
131- 

IX.    How  MAY  SOCIETY  REGULATE  THE  DISTRIBUTION 

OF  WEALTH? 133 

Public  opinion  and  law,  133.  Trust-busting,  135. 
Will  the  amount  that  now  forms  the  differential 
be  produced  if  part  of  it  is  diverted  to  labor? 
137.  Factory  legislation,  139.  Tenement  laws 
and  city  planning,  140.  Employers'  liability, 
compensation  and  industrial  insurance  laws,  140. 
The  modern  view,  141.  The  socialization  of 
wealth  by  taxation,  145.  The  unearned  incre- 
mentj  148 


xii  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  .  PAGE 

X.    FURTHER  PROPOSALS  FOR  THE  SOCIAL  REGULATION 

OF  THE  DISTRIBUTION  OF  WEALTH  .  .  .  .  151 
Minimum  wage  boards,  151.  Collective  bargain- 
ing, 152.  Profit-sharing  and  cooperation,  154. 
Bipartite  cooperation,  156.  Prevent  stock- 
watering  and  limit  stock  gambling,  1^7.  A  com- 
mission for  corporations,  160.  Government 
ownership,  164.  Socialism,  164.  Reform  by 
violence,  167.  Necessity  for  development  in 
industrial  legislation,  168.  Law  no  cure-all,  169. 

XL    TYPES  OF  POVERTY 171 

The  care  of  dependent  children,  171.  Care  of 
the  aged,  175.  Care  of  the  physically  defec- 
tive, 176.  Dependency  due  to  moral  abnormal- 
ity, 181.  The  unemployed  but  employable,  185. 

XII.     CHARITY  ORGANIZATION 189 

Underlying  principles,  189.  Institutional  and 
non-institutional  relief,  190.  The  Elberfeld 
system,  193.  Charity  organization  societies, 
194.  Prevention  of  overlapping  and  imposture, 
194.  Properly  conducted  investigation,  196. 
Communication  between  need  and  source  of 
supply,  196.  To  restore  the  impoverished  to 
economic  independence,  197.  Examples,  199.  An 
agency  of  research  and  public  instruction,  201. 
The  almshouse,  203.  Government  supervision, 
205.  Conclusion,  207. 

III.  PSYCHOPHYSICAL    CAUSES   WHICH    AFFECT   THE   LIFE    OF 

SOCIETY 

XIII.    THE  HEREDITARY  CHARACTERISTICS  OF  THE  POPU- 
LATION       209 

Data  which  physiology  furnishes  to  sociology, 
209.  Relations  of  biological  traits  to  social  life, 
211.  Two  classes  of  socially  important  psy- 
chophysical  conditions,  212.  Instinct,  213.  Pre- 
disposition, 215.  General  predispositions,  218. 


CONTENTS  xiii 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

Economic  predispositions,  220.  Social  predis- 
positions, 221.  Only  minor  variations  in  in- 
stincts and  predispositions  of  normal  individu- 
als, 227.  General  neural  traits,  230.  Tempera- 
ment, 234.  Metabolism,  236. 

XIV     OTHER  HEREDITARY  CHARACTERISTICS  OF  POPULA- 
TION.   RACE.    EUGENICS 239 

Race,  239.  Racial  as  distinguished  from  cul- 
tural differences,  242.  Ages,  244.  Sex,  245. 
Chivalry,  247.  Hereditary  defects,  248.  Feeble- 
mindedness, 249.  Retarded  children,  251.  Bi- 
ology and  caste,  252.  The  method  of  inheri- 
tance, 254.  Eugenics,  258.  Unplanned  selective 
agencies,  261. 

XV.    IMMIGRATION 267 

Effect  of  immigration  on  native  birth  rate,  267. 
Immigration  and  the  standard  of  living,  269. 
Immigration  and  national  development,  270. 
America  aspires  to  world  leadership,  271.  The 
new  immigration,  272.  Immigration  laws,  273. 

XVI.    ACQUIRED      POPULATION-TRAITS      AND      PUBLIC  ( 

HEALTH 277 

Are  acquired  characteristics  inherited?  277. 
Does  the  type  of  humanity  advance  ?  279.  Bio- 
logical evolution  and  social  evolution,  281.  The 
methods  of  progress,  281.  Preventable  dis- 
eases, 282.  Losses  due  to  preventable  diseases, 
285.  Occupation  and  disease,  287.  Stunted 
youth,  288.  School  hygiene,  289.  Socialization 
of  medical  science,  291.  Drugging,  292.  Ve- 
nereal disease,  295.  Second  nature,  297.  Sub- 
conscious set,  298. 

IV.  SOCIAL  CAUSES  WHICH  AFFECT  THE  LIFE  OF  SOCIETY 

XVII.    THE  DETERMINATION  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  SOCIETY 

FROM  WITHIN 301 


XIV 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

We  pass  to  the  inner  essence  of  society,  301. 
Association — the  inclusive  social  relation,  302. 
Association  depends  on  communication  and  is 
always  a  causal  relation,  304.  Social  suggestion, 
306.  Doubt  and  thought,  307.  Social  sug- 
gestion determines  conduct  and  the  desire 
for  conduct  determines  invention,  311.  Error 
may  work  for  a  time,  313.  Psychological  prin- 
ciple underlying  these  two  statements  concern- 
ing social  suggestion,  314.  Sympathetic  radia- 
tion, 316.  Imitation,  320. 

XVIII.    PRESTIGE  AND  ACCOMMODATION 323 

Prestige,  323.  Kinds  of  prestige,  324.  Nature 
and  grounds  of  prestige,  328.  Accommodation, 
333- 


PART  II 
NATURE  AND  ANALYSIS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  SOCIETY 

XIX.  THE  NATURE  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  SOCIETY  ....  339 
Life  of  society,  339.  The  in  and  out  of  con- 
scious life,  340.  Experience-activity,  342.  The 
essential  social  phenomena  are  psychic,  344. 
The  scientific  and  practical  problems  of  soci- 
ology, 345.  The  sociophysical  phenomena,  347. 
The  first  characteristic  of  social  activities,  350. 
The  second  characteristic  of  social  activities, 
351.  The  third  characteristic  of  social  activi- 
ties, 352.  Relation  between  sociology  and  psy- 
chology, 354. 

XX.    THE  ANALYSIS  AND  CLASSIFICATION  OF  SOCIAL 

ACTIVITIES 357 

Tarde,  Giddings,  DeGreef  and  Small,  357.  A 
further  classification,  360.  Creeds  and  sciences, 
or  social  ideas,  362.  Social  sentiments.  Preva- 
lent activities  in  which  feeling  predominates, 


CONTENTS 


xv 


CHAPTER 


364.    The  arts  of  life,  social  practices,  373.    The 
fourth  kingdom  of  realities,  381. 


PAGE 


383 


XXI.  MODES  OF  VARIATION  IN  SOCIAL  ACTIVITIES  .  . 
Social  phenomena  vary  in  prevalence,  383.  So- 
cial phenomena  vary  in  strength,  384.  Com- 
pound social  activities  vary  in  uniformity,  386. 
Compound  social  activities  vary  in  content,  388. 
Compound  social  activities  vary  in  phase,  389. 

XXII.    MODES  OF  VARIATION  IN  SOCIAL  ACTIVITIES  —  RA- 

TIONALIZED SOCIAL  ACTIVITIES  ;  Jfc-^c,  .    .    .    398 
Rational  acceptance,  398.     Affinity  of  certain 
kinds  of  activity  for  certain  phases,  400.    Cul- 
ture peoples  and  nature  peoples,  403.     Institu- 
tions, 405.     Organization,  409. 

XXIII.  NATURAL  SOCIAL  ORDER      .....    .    .    .    .    411 

Static  and  dynamic,  413.  The  radical  and  con- 
servative principles,  415.  The  first  characteris- 
tic of  a  society,  417.  The  second  characteristic 
of  a  society,  418.  The  third  characteristic  of  a 
society,  419.  Population  and  society,  419. 
Nature  of  the  social  unity,  422.  Kinds  of  socie- 
ties, 424.  Societies  and  the  social  process,  426. 
Definitions,  427.  The  social  realities,  430. 

XXIV.  SOCIET'Y  AND  THE  INDIVIDUAL    .......    431 

Identity  of  individual  and  social  activities,  431. 
Subjective  individual  and  objective  social  real- 
ity, 432.  Individual  life  composite,  434.  The 
unit  of  investigation,  436.  What  determines  in- 
dividuality? 437.  Paradoxes,  441.  Sociology 
the  study  of  life,  444. 

PART  III 

SOCIAL   EVOLUTION 

XXV.    THE  PERSPECTIVE  OF  SOCIAL  EVOLUTION  ....    449 
Comparative  and  genetic  sociology,  449.     An- 


XVI 


CONTENTS 


thropology,  ethnology  and  sociology,  451.  So- 
cial evolution  and  cosmic  evolution,  454.  Social 
evolution  continuous  with  biological  evolution, 
455.  Animal  invention,  458.  Man  and  his  poor 
relations,  461.  Stages  of  social  evolution,  463. 
The  stages  of  social  evolution  according  to 
Vierkandt,  Steinmetz  and  Comte,  469.  Eco- 
nomic stages  or  types,  471. 

XXVI.    ADDITIONAL  ELEMENTS  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  SOCIAL 

EVOLUTION 474 

Application  of  general  principles  of  evolution  to 
social  realities,  474.  Invention,  477.  Attention 
foci,  479.  The  fixation  of  social  species,  480. 
Cross-fertilization  of  cultures,  482.  Folkways 
and  mores,  483.  Natural  selection,  485. 

XXVII.    EXAMPLES  OF  SOCIAL  EVOLUTION 490 

Implements,  490.  Play  as  random  experimenta- 
tion, 491.  Cooking,  492.  Agriculture,  494. 
Domestication  of  animals,  496.  Personal  adorn- 
ment, 499.  The  desire  for  visible  distinction, 
501.  Esthetic  conventionality,  502.  Clothing, 
506. 

XXVIII.  EXAMPLES  OF  SOCIAL  EVOLUTION  (Continued)  .  508 
Language;  508.  Organic  reactions  are  intelli- 
gible to  others,  508.  Mimicry,  509.  Association 
of  sounds  with  experiences,  510.  The  general- 
ized notion  of  using  sounds  as  symbols,  512. 
Grammar,  513.  Writing,  measuring,  and  count- 
ing, 516.  Property  and  commerce,  519. 

XXIX.  EXAMPLES  OF  SOCIAL  EVOLUTION  (Continued)  .  525 
The  family,  525.  Exogamy,  526.  The  classifi- 
catory  system  of  relationships,  529.  The  ma- 
tronymic  family,  531.  Transition  to  patronymic 
family,  532.  Group  marriage,  polyandry,  and 
polygamy,  534.  Slavery,  536.  Origin  of  the 
-  state,  538.  Morality,  541. 


CONTENTS 


xvu 


XXX. 


EXAMPLES  OF  SOCIAL  EVOLUTION  (Continued)  . 
The  evolution  of  religion,  551.  Magic,  552. 
Zoomorphism,  555.  Ancestor  worship,  559. 
Inspiration,  565.  Miracles,  567.  Homologies  in 
religion,  569.  The  three  stages  of  social  evo- 
lution, 571. 


551 


SOCIAL   CONTROL 

XXXI.    THE  PROBLEM  AND  PRINCIPLES  OF  SOCIAL  CONTROL    581 
The  necessity  of  social  control,  581.    The  prin-       * 
ciples  of  social  control,  585.    The  perversion  of 
social  control,  586.    Not  law  but  personality  is 
the  ultimate  basis  of  social  order,   588.     The 
*  first   of  the   essential   virtues — reliability,   588. 

Control  of  animalism,  590.  The  third  essential 
trait,  591.  The  social  spirit,  591.  The  reason- 
ableness of  good  conduct,  592. 

XXXII.     CRIME  AND  ITS  CAUSES 596 

The  law  as  an  agency  of  social  control,  596. 
Vice,  sin,  immorality,  tort  and  crime,  597. 
Classes  of  crime,  598.  Classes  of  criminals, 
599.  Is  there  a  criminal  type  ?  599.  The  extent 
of  crime,  609. 

XXXIII.  CRIME  AND  ITS  TREATMENT 611 

The  motive  of  punishment,  611.  Development 
of  criminal  procedure,  611.  Trial  by  jury,  615. 
The  training  of  criminal  lawyers,  616.  Indi- 
vidualization  and  criminal  procedure,  618.  In- 
dividualization  after  conviction,  619.  Reforma- 
tory treatment,  620.  The  jail,  624.  Other  sug- 
gestions, 624.  Juvenile  courts,  625.  War,  627. 

XXXIV.  RELIGION,    PUBLIC    OPINION,    AND    POLITICS    AS 

AGENCIES  OF  SOCIAL  CONTROL 632 

Legal  religion,  632.  Public  sentiment,  634. 
Politics  in  the  light  of  sociological  principles, 


xvm 


CONTENTS 


637.  Interest  groups,  639.  The  inclusive  po- 
litical interest,  643.  Politics  and  progress,  646. 
The  principle  of  "unmitigated  hostility,"  648. 

XXXV.    EDUCATION 652 

Educational  aims  from  the  social  viewpoint, 
652.  The  variability  of  individuals  and  of  so- 
ciety, 659.  Education  the  chief  agency  of  social 
control,  665.  Education  and  progress,  666. 

XXXVI. .  EDUCATIONAL  AGENCIES  OUTSIDE  THE  SCHOOL  .    .    669 
The  family,  669.     Divorce,  673.    Art  and  play, 
674.     Manners   and  ceremony  as  agencies   of 
control,  679.    The  press  as  an  agency  of  social 
control,  680.     The  church,  685. 

BIBLIOGRAPHY 691 

INDEX *•»»••••« 709 


INTRODUCTION 


CHAPTER   I 

THE   NATURE   OF  THE   STUDY 

Sociology  Studies  G-ood  and  Bad  Alike. — Apparently  many 
persons  turn  to  sociology  with  the  idea  that  it  is  a  study  of 
vice,  crime,  and  poverty,  and  that  the  typical  sociological 
exercise  is  "slumming."  It  is,  however,  at  least  as  important 
scientifically  to  understand  the  normal  as  to  understand  the 
abnormal,  and  at  least  as  important  practically  to  know  how 
to  promote  the  good  as  to  know  how  to  combat  the  evil.  We 
should  at  the  outset  divest  ourselves  of  the  one-sided  idea 
that  sociology  is  a  study  of  evils,  and  look  forward  rather 
to  a  study  of  social  life  as  a  whole,  good  and  evil  existing 
together. 

In  this  respect  sociology  does  not  differ  from  any  other 
science  that  deals  with  a  department  of  life.  Sociology  has 
as  much  to  do  with  poverty,  vice,  and  crime  as  botany  has 
to  do  with  parasitism  and  the  diseases  of  plants,  and  it  also 
has  as  much  to  do  with  the  normal  life  of  society  as  botany 
has  to  do  with  the  normal  life  of  plants.  The  illustration 
may  be  made  still  more  accurate  by  saying  that  slavery,  war, 
and  parts  of  that  which,  at  our  stage  of  civilization,  is  called 
vice,  are  as  natural,  and  in  that  sense  as  normal,  as  honest 
industry.  Weeds  are  at  least  as  natural  as  wheat,  and  the 
sociologist  as  well  as  the  botanist  or  any  other  scientist  must 
study  the  realities  as  they  are  naturally  produced  before  he  is 
prepared  to  exercise  a  selective  control  over  their  produc- 
tion. He  must  study  the  activities  that  go  on  in  society  as 
they  are,  and  they  are  in  part  good  and  in  part  bad,  accord- 
ing to  our  standards ;  it  may  be  as  important  both  for  science 
and  for  those  practical  activities  which  may  be  guided  by 
science  that  we  understand  the  one  as  the  other. 

3 


4  INTRODUCTION   TO    SOCIOLOGY 

The  Point  of  View. — Whatever  else  sociology  may  mean, 
it  stands  for  the  adoption  of  a  distinct  and  consistent  attitude, 
or  point  of  view,  in  the  discussion  of  intellectual  problems 
the  solution  of  which  practically  affects  the  life  of  man. 

I.  It  means,  first,  that  social  problems  are  to  be  discussed 
with  primary  reference  not  to  the  gains  of  the  wealthy,  nor 
to  the  stability  and  strength  of  states,  but  to  the  welfare  of 
all  the  people.  From  this  it  results  that  a  set  of  problems, 
once  largely  neglected,  comes  into  the  center  of  attention, 
namely,  the  problems  of  the  distribution  of  wealth,  oppor- 
tunity, education,  health,  and  the  joys  and  worth  of  life. 
Machiavelli  could  teach  that  even  the  conscience  of  the  indi- 
vidual should  be  sacrificed  to  the  welfare  of  the  state.  Not 
long  ago  the  liaison  of  a  prince  made  history,  but  in  the  same 
year  ten  thousand  subjects  might  starve  and  the  fact  be 
omitted  by  historians.  Then  an  economic  writer  could  declare 
that  "high  wages  are  the  great  obstacle  to  British  trade"; 
but  we  regard  high  wages  as  the  best  evidence  of  the  success 
of  business,  for  we  see  wages  not  as  an  expense  to  be  kept 
down  but,  by  a  reversal  in  point  of  view,  as  a  product  to  be 
increased,  as  shares  in  the  distribution  of  the  proceeds  re- 
ceived by  participants  in  industry.  Business  and  the  state 
we  regard  as  existing  for  the  general  good,  and  good  or  evil 
experienced  by  each  individual  counts  at  par. 

Economics  may  be  quite  justified  in  insisting  that  it  is  a 
science  of  wealth  rather  than  of  welfare,  or  comprehensive 
ethical  aims ;  and  political  science  may  be  equally  justified  in 
regarding  itself  as  the  study  of  methods  by  which  policies 
may  be  carried  out,  rather  than  as  a  study  of  social  policies. 
If  so,  it  is  clear  that  each  of  these,  though  immensely  impor- 
tant in  itself,  deals  with  a  limited  aspect  of  the  field  of  social 
reality. 

Sociology  aims  at  nothing  less  than  the  transfer  of  ethics 
from  the  domain  of  speculative  philosophy  to  the  domain  of 
objective  science.  It  regards  human  welfare,  which  can  be 
realized  only  in  society,  as  a  distinct  kind  of  reality,  the 
causation  of  which  calls  for  scientific  investigation.  It  has 
been  common  to  sav:  "Science  deals  with  what  is,  and  only 


THE   NATURE   OF   THE   STUDY  5 

philosophy  can  deal  with  what  ought  to  be."  Sociology  replies 
that  good  and  evil  are  parts  of  what  is,  that  human  expe- 
rience is  as  real  as  any  other  reality,  and  that  the  promotion 
of  good  and  the  limitation  of  evil  must  rest  upon  scientific 
comprehension  as  truly  as  the  control  of  any  other  results. 

The  thorough-going  adoption  by  sociology  of  the  ethical 
point  of  view  involves  not  only  a  distinct  set  of  special  prac- 
tical problems,  but  also  a  distinct  set  of  general  fundamental 
problems  such  as:  (a)  what,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  are  the 
ultimate  values  involved  in  social  life;  (b)  what  are  the 
existing  conscience  codes  and  social  policies  of  different  peo- 
ples; (c)  how  have  these  widely  varying  codes  arisen;  (d) 
what  justification  in  facts  is  there  for  the  demands  of  these 
codes  or  of  any  codes  of  conduct;  (e)  what  change  in  exist- 
ing codes  does  this  matter  of  fact  criterion  require?  Soci- 
ology proposes  to  be  a  general  science  of  values  and  of  valua- 
tions ;  of  valuations  as  they  arise  and  become  intrenched  in 
social  sentiments  and  dominate  the  contrasting  life  of  different 
societie's,  and  of  -values  as  they  exist  for  human  experience 
with  special  reference  to  the  modes  of  causation  by  which 
these  values  are  promoted  or  destroyed.  First  then,  the 
sociological  point  of  view  is  ethical. 

2.  The  sociological  point  of  view  is  causal.  Sociology 
regards  the  character  and  welfare  of  mankind,  individually 
and  collectively,  not  as  a  matter  of  fate,  predestination,  or 
class  heritage,  nor  even  of  free  will,  considered  as  an  excep- 
tion to  the  universal  reign  of  law,  and  requiring  only  exhorta- 
tion to  transform  men  and  society ;  but  rather  man's  character 
and  welfare  are  regarded  as  resulting  from  causal  conditions, 
which  up  to  the  limits  of  the  power  of  human  intelligence 
must  be  understood.  It  is  knowledge  of  causation  which 
gives  to  man  power  over  results.  This  has  been  proved  in 
the  realm  of  material  phenomena.  The  knowledge  that  con- 
sequences issue  in  accordance  with  an  orderly  method  of 
causation  prompts  man  to  conduct,  which  so  conditions  those 
consequences  that  they  will  turn  out  in  accordance  with  his 
interests;  for  man  is  himself  a  part  of  the  causal  process 
of  nature — -in  all  his  actions  caused,  and  also  a  cause  of  his 


6  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

own  ruin  or  fulfillment,  according  to  his  ignorance  or  his 
knowledge  of  the  method  by  which  this  ruin  or  this  fulfill- 
ment issues  from  those  conditions  of  which  his  own  activity 
forms  a  part.  Holding  this  view,  sociology  is  bound  to  seek 
the  general  principles  of  causal  explanation  that  show,  not 
only  how  values  are  realized  or  destroyed,  and  how  conscience 
codes  arise  and  become  a  social  heritage,  but  also  how  all 
social  sentiments,  beliefs,  and  practices,  customs,  institutions, 
and  correlated  systems  of  social  activity  evolve. 

3.  The  sociological  point  of  view  is  functional.     It  re- 
quires the  transfer  of  chief  attention  from  the  external  forms 
and  incidents  of  social  life  to  the  inner  essence  of  it,  finding 
that  the  ultimate  facts  to  be  explained  are  built  out  of  preva- 
lent ideas,  sentiments,  and  practices,  that  the  ultimate  values 
to  be  promoted  are  in  human  experience,  and  that  progress 
and  reform  fundamentally  consist  in  development  of  wants, 
interests,  judgments  and  ideas,  and  that  the  passage  of  laws, 
or  the  production  or  distribution  of  wealth,  or  anything  else 
whatever,  has  little  significance  for  progress  save  as  it  ex- 
presses or  promotes  such  inner  changes  in  the  life  of  society. 
The  meaning  of  this  will  not  be  clear  to  the  reader  until  he 
has  made  considerable  progress  in  the  study  of   sociology, 
but  he  will  come  to  see  that  its  importance  is  as  great  as  that 
of  either  of  the  other  elements  in  the  sociological  point  of 
view. 

4.  The  sociological  point  of  view  is  synthetic.    It  implies 
belief  that  the  time  for  synthesis  has  come ;  not  that  analysis 
has  yielded  all  its  fruits,  but  that  instead  of  perpetuating  the 
practice  by  which  every  social  science  exaggerates,  and  almost 
inevitably  to  some  degree  distorts,  one  set  of  factors  by  view- 
ing it  with  too   little   regard   for  its   interrelationship  with 
other  factors,  one  social  science  shall  busy  itself  explicitly 
with  the  task  of  correlation,  and  with  those  generalizations 
which  are  based  upon  data,  parts  of  which  are  furnished  by 
each  special  social  science,  generalizations  which  find  applica- 
tion in  every  subdivision  of  social  reality,  and  which  serve 
as  safeguards  against  the  dangers  of  narrow  specialization, 
and  as  lamps  to  deeper  insight. 


THE   NATURE   OF   THE   STUDY  7 

As  general  biology  is  the  science  of  physical  life,  so  gen- 
eral sociology  is  the  science  of  social  life.  As  biology  has 
generalizations  which  are  based  on  data,  furnished  by  every 
subdivision  of  biological  facts,  generalizations  which  also  find 
application  in  every  subdivision  of  biological  reality,  to  mol- 
lusks  and  to  vertebrate  mammals,  to  the  facts  of  cryptogamic 
botany  and  to  the  facts  of  physical  anthropology,  to  all  organic 
life  from  the  toadstool  to  man,  so  general  sociology  has  its 
generalizations  based  on  data  gathered  from  every  subdivision 
of  social  life  and  applying  to  every  subdivision  of  social  life. 

Former  abuses  of  the  supposed  analogy  between  societies 
and  biological  organisms  need  not  deter  us  from  carrying  out 
the  comparison  between  general  biology  and  general  sociology 
as  follows:  (a)  The  principles  of  biological  evolution  are 
based  on  investigation  which  extends  to  all  divisions  of  phys- 
ical life,  and  they  apply  to  the  production  of  all  types  of 
physical  life,  so  that  the  investigator  of  Mendel's  law  experi- 
ments, now  with  peas  or  other  vegetables,  and  now  with 
rabbits  or  other  animals,  and  applies  his  generalizations  to 
man.  The  data  and  the  investigations  involved  and  the  appli- 
cations of  the  laws  of  physical  evolution  cover  the  entire  fields 
of  both  botany  and  zoology  in  all  their  subdivisions.  Like- 
wise the  data,  investigation,  and  application  of  the  principles 
of  social  evolution  relate  equally  to  the  entire  field  of  politics, 
religion,  ethics,  and  all  other  social  activities,  (b)  The  same 
comparison  as  that  between  biological  and  social  evolution 
may  be  drawn  between  biological  ecology  and  the  sociological 
study  which  traces  the  relations  of  social  activities  (ethical, 
religious,  economic,  political,  and  of  every  kind)  to  their 
material  environment,  (c)  A  similar  comparison  may  be 
drawn  between  physiological  chemistry,  and  social  psychology. 
Physiological  chemistry  sets  forth  processes  of  life,  animal 
and  vegetable,  in  all  their  subdivisions,  much  as  social  psy- 
chology investigates  the  intermental  relations  which  afford 
the  only  fundamental  explanation  of  customs  and  institu- 
tions of  every  kind,  (d)  Cellular  histology  resembles  the 
analysis  of  institutions  and  customs  into  their  repetitious 
elements. 


8  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

This  comparison  to  general  biology  does  not  exhaust  the 
definition  of  general  sociology,  .especially  because  there  is 
nothing  in  general  biology  that  can  be  compared  to  sociological 
ethics. 

5.  Adoption  of  the  sociological  point  of  view  means  that 
all  prejudices  and  settled  questions  shall  be  subject  to  reex- 
amination,  in  the  light  of  adequate  investigation  and  of  the 
adopted  conclusions  of  all  previous  sciences.  We  are  to 
study,  not  as  Republicans  or  Democrats,  Northerners  or 
Southerners,  employers  or  employed,  Americans  or  Euro- 
peans, but  unprejudiced  as  if  seated  in  a  star  and  looking  down 
upon  earthly  sects  and  parties — a  hard  requirement,  to  be  ap- 
proached, not  easily  to  be  fulfilled.  All  the  social  sciences  aim 
to  share  in  this  fifth  characteristic,  but  sociology,  besides  mak- 
ing this  a  conscious  aim  is  peculiarly  adapted  to  promote  this 
intellectual  achievement  since  it  studies  the  method  by  which 
prejudices,  sentiments,  and  beliefs  arise  and  spread. 

Sociology,  then,  is  ( I )  ethical,  regarding  the  weal  and  woe 
of  all  men  as  facts  to  be  accounted  for.  (2)  It  views  the 
facts  of  human  experience  as  caused,  and  belonging  to  the 
orderly  course  of  nature.  (3)  Though  caused  in  part  by 
material  facts,  the  essence  of  the  life  of  society  is  seen  to  be 
made  up  of  a  functional  process  of  conscious  activities. 
(4)  Sociology  sets  itself  to  the  task  of  synthesis,  and  searches 
out  those  principles  which  operate  throughout  the  realm  of 
social  realities.  (5)  In  the  study  of  these  facts,  it  aims  to 
dissolve  all  bonds  of  party,  sect,  and  prejudice. 

Art  and  Science. —  Sociology  does  not  begin  by -telling  how 
to  usher  in  the  millennium.  Hundreds  have  set  themselves  to 
answer  the  question,  how  shall  we  mend  society  ?  for  every  one 
who  has  set  himself  to  understand  society.  At  present  the 
most  practical  of  all  social  tasks  is  the  task  of  comprehen- 
sion. Sociology  would  be  a  respectable  pursuit  if  it  were 
nothing  but  the  art  of  wise  social  action,  correlating  the 
light  shed  by  all  the  sciences  upon  practical  problems  of 
amelioration  and  progress,  for  which  no  single  science  affords 
the  necessary  guidance,  just  as  the  art,  or  science,  of  medicine 
correlates  the  practical  knowledge  of  surgical  mechanics, 


THE   NATURE   OF   THE   STUDY  9 

Rontgen  rays,  electricity,  chemistry,  physiology,  bacteriology, 
psycholo'gy  and  whatever  else  can  serve  the  ends  of  healing 
and  preventing  bodily  suffering.  But  sociology  proposes  to 
be  not  only  a  practical  art,  but  also  a  science.  Comte  and 
his  followers  go  further,  and  say  that  sociology  will  prove 
to  be  not  only  a  science,  but  one  of  the  more  fundamental 
sciences.  This,  they  say,  is  because  social  causation  proceeds 
according  to  distinct  fundamental  principles  not  discovered 
by  any  other  science.  We  commonly  speak  of  the  esthetic 
arts  and  the  practical  arts,  and  art  in  both  of  these  senses 
we  distinguish  from  science.  This  distinction  between  art 
and  science  must  not  be  too  strictly  drawn ;  nevertheless,  it 
has  its  usefulness.  There  is  a  clear  difference  between  the 
art  of  dyeing  cloth  in  fast  colors,  and  the  science  of  chemistry 
which  discovered  the  aniline  dyes  and  the  methods  of  their 
use;  or  between  the  art  of  medicine,  and  the  sciences  of 
physiology  and  bacteriology  and  the  other  sciences  which 
underlie  the  practice  of  medicine.  Art  aims  directly  to  do, 
while  science  aims  primarily  to  understand.  In  this  sense 
sociology  is  primarily  science  and  not  art,  although  it  well 
may  hope,  like  other  sciences,  to  afford  the  basis  upon  which 
art  may  be  established. 

Science  is  doubly  worth  while.  It  is  an  end  in  itself  and  a 
means  to  all  other  ends.  As  an  end  in  itself,  knowledge  sat- 
isfies one  of  the  elemental  human  desires.  Purely  scientific  pur- 
suits have  frequently  seemed  trivial  to  "practical"  men.  •  Those 
who  first  learned  to  send  an  electric  current  across  a  laboratory 
table  were  said  to  be  playing  with  the  "toys  of  science,"  but 
the  intellectual  problems  with  which  they  dealt  were  not 
trivial.  And  it  must  not  be  forgotten  that  it  is  their  activities, 
and  not  those  of  the  "practical"  men,  that  have  made  possible 
our  great  inventions  and  our  control  over  nature.  It  was  not 
the  effort  to  send  messages  that  made  possible  the  discovery 
of  the  telegraph  and  telephone  and  of  wireless  telegraphy, 
but  the  effort  to  understand  electricity.  Trying  to  cure  dis- 
eases yielded  some  crude  knowledge  of  the  effects  produced 
by  certain  roots  and  herbs,  but  it  is  the  bacteriologist  with 
his  cultures,  the  biologist  with  his  bell  jars  of  earthworms 


10  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

and  sea-urchins,  who  give  us  the  knowledge  of  the  secrets  of 
life  and  disease  upon  which  the  arts  of  scientific  medicine  are 
founded.  The  scientists  themselves  with  their  electric  toys 
and  all  their  curious  researches  have  as  a  rule  been  unable 
to  see  that  they  were  making  possible  any  important  prac- 
tical results.  They  were  busy  in  answering  intellectual  needs, 
in  finding  answers  to  hard  questions.  Yet  there  is  but  little 
knowledge  about  human  life  and  its  immediate  conditions 
which  has  not  been  utilized  as  a  means  to  other  good.  The 
order  of  progress  has  been,  first,  the  crude  arts  developed 
by  blundering  empiricism,  the  method  of  trial  and  failure  and 
occasional  success,  which  takes  man  only  a  little  way  and  at 
painful  cost  toward  the  mastery  of  life's  problems;  then 
science  and  comprehension ;  and  at  last  the  scientific  arts 
leading  to  fuller  satisfactions.  Incomparably,  the  most  impor- 
tant fact  of  recent  history  has  been  the  expansion  of  the. 
sciences.  It  is  the  scientists  and  not  captains  of  industry  nor 
generals  nor  statesmen  who  have  contributed  chiefly  to  our 
mastery  over  the  material  world,  to  say  nothing  of  the  reor- 
ganization of  our  intellectual  life.  Therefore,  science,  while 
of  value  as  an  enlargement  of  life,  is  of  value  also  as  the 
mightiest  of  all  our  tools. 

Practical  Application  of  Sociology. — But  is  it  reasonable  to 
suppose  that  the  science  of  sociology  can  ever  lead  to  devel- 
oped social  arts  which  will  make  it  possible  to  control  social 
situations  and  mold  them  in  the  interest  of  human  welfare, 
as  we  have  learned  to  control  and  manipulate  material 
realities  ? 

If  we  do  not  modify  the  social  realities  it  will  not  be 
because  we  have  no  need  of  doing  so.  We  have  measurably 
solved  the  problems  involved  in  utilizing  our  material  sur- 
roundings. Although  we  shall  still  welcome  improvements 
in  the  methods  of  agriculture,  manufacture,  and  transporta- 
tion, yet,  speaking  relatively,  we  may  say  that  those  problems 
have  been  solved.  But  has  human  welfare  been  attained? 
Approximately  a  tenth  of  our  population  has  not  even  its 
physical  necessities  adequately  supplied.  Hundreds  of  thou- 
sands in  our  country  annually  die  needless  deaths,  are  need- 


THE  NATURE  OF  THE  STUDY       II 

lessly  maimed  or  undermined  in  health,  grow  into  vicious, 
shiftless,  worthless,  hopeless  beings.  Good  human  possibilities, 
are  born  into  the  world  never  to  be  fulfilled.  If  we  could  look 
with  seeing  eyes  beyond  the  youthful  and  the  fortunate,  to  see 
the  wreckage  and  ruin  and  woe,  we  might  agree  that  Huxley 
spoke  with  justification  when  he  suggested  that  should  the  ex- 
periment of  human  life  go  no  further,  we  should  have  reason 
to  hail  the  advent  of  some  friendly  comet  that  would  sweep  the 
whole  phantasmagoria  out  of  existence.  Even  if  we  had  solved 
the  special  problems  of  the  defective,  dependent,  and  delin- 
quent presented  by  the  lowest  tenth  of  our  population,  there 
would  remain  a  problem  even  greater,  which  is  presented  by 
the  medium  five  to  eight-tenths,  made  up  of  steady  laboring 
folk  and  of  those  who,  in  respect  to  culture  and  character, 
compose  the  mass.  Agricultural  scientists  affirm  that  the  corn 
lands  of  a  state  so  rich  in  soil  and  so  well  tilled  as  Illinois 
might,  by  scientific  methods,  be  made  to  double  their  produc- 
tion. It  is  probably  quite  as  true  that  the  values  realized  in 
the  lives  of  these  masses  of  our  population  might  be  doubled. 
They  have  not  even  discovered  their  own  possibilities.  The 
progress  that  we  now  need  is  progress  toward  securing  the 
prevalence  of  desirable  activities  correlated  into  a  social  situa- 
tion in  which  we  shall  utilize  the  material,  resources  now 
under  our  control,  and  the  human  resources  still  so  unman- 
ageable, in  such  a  way  that  the  unmistakable  possibilities  of 
good,  that  now  go  unrealized,  shall  not  be  allowed  to  incur 
by  wholesale  the  failure  of  their  fulfillment. 

But  granting  the  tremendous  desirability  of  modifying 
prevalent  social  activities,  the  ideas,  moral  standards,  ambi- 
tions, and  practices  of  men,  the  question  remains:  are  they 
subject  to  modification  by  the  application  of  sociological 
knowledge?  Our  present  inability  to  control  social  situations 
is  great,  but  is  it  greater  than  the  abject  helplessness  in  which 
men  once  stood  in  the  presence  of  the  physical  environment? 
No  science,  while  in  its  earlier  stages,  reveals  what  its  prac- 
tical applications  are  to  be.  The  achievements  of  the  physical 
sciences  were  once  not  only  incredible  but  also  unimaginable. 
There  are  already  inspiring  glimpses  of  possible  applications 


12  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

of  sociological  principles.  Comparative  sociology,  as  we  shall 
see  later,  at  least  has  demonstrated  that  no  other  phenomena 
in  nature  are  more  variable  than  the  activities,  sentiments, 
and  ideas  of  men.  At  this  stage  of  our  study  familiar  facts 
must  serve  to  illustrate  this  variability.  A  ruffian  is  con- 
verted and  becomes  a  minister  of  salvation.  Japan,  who  had 
shut  her  gates  to  foreigners  and  clung  to  hoary  traditions, 
becomes  the  eager  seeker  of  occidental  knowledge  and  meth- 
ods, and  brings  her  army,  her  government,  her  manufac- 
tures "up  to  the  minute."  We  may  know  what  we  are,  but 
no  people  knows  what  it  might  become  in  two  generations. 
The  most  inveterate  sentiments,  enthusiasms,  and  detestations 
may  in  time  be  reversed.  The  course  of  life  seems  fixed  by  a 
kind  of  fate  only  because  we  have  not  understood  the  causes 
by  which  it  is  directed.  In  proportion  to  our  knowledge  of 
causes  and  our  power  to  manipulate  them  is  our  power  over 
results.  We  are  sometimes  told  that  the  last  forty  years  of 
the  nineteenth  century  witnessed  a  greater  progress  in  the 
utilization  of  the  earth's  material  resources  than  all  the  cen- 
turies that  had  gone  before.-  This  was  due  to  the  tremendous 
development  of  the  physical  sciences  during  that  period,  which 
gave  us  knowledge  of  the  causation  by  which  material  results 
are  molded.  What  we  now  supremely  need  is  scientific  com- 
prehension of  social  conditions,  for  in  this  field  as  in  that  of 
material  realities  comprehension  -alone  can  be  the  basis  of 
any  adequate  control.  The  achievement  of  such  comprehen- 
sion is  the  supreme  intellectual  task,  and  the  supreme  prac- 
tical task  of  the  twentieth  century. 

The  Need  of  a  New  World  View. — There  is  an  additional 
practical  result  which  may  be  hoped  for  as  a  consequence 
of  the  intellectual  movement  of  which  sociology  is  the  most 
characteristic  expression:  we  need  a  new  world  view. 

By  a  world  view,  I  mean  a  set  of  dominant  ideas  in  the 
light  of  which  we  form  our  opinions  and  shape  our  life  pol- 
icies, and  from  which  we  derive  motives;  ideas  of  the  sort 
to  which  Comte  referred  when  he  said,  "Ideas  rule  the  world 
or  throw  it  into  chaos,"  ideas  of  the  sort  for  which  a  wise 
man  prayed  when  he  said,  "Give  me  a  great  thought  that  I 


THE  NATURE  OF  THE  STUDY        13 

may  warm  my  soul  withal."  Among  our  ideas  there  are 
some  that  stand  out  like  a  general  among  an  army  of  privates. 
Such  is  the  idea  of  gravitation  among  our  notions  of  physical 
realities.  The  presence  of  a  few  such  ruling  ideas  concern- 
ing life  may  organize  all  our  ideas  about  life  into  a  "world 
view."  Their  absence  reduces  our  ideas  about  life  to  a  chaos 
or  a  fog. 

To  have  an  ennobling  world  view  in  the  sense  just  defined 
might  even  be  said  to  be  the  prime  need  of  men,  for  with- 
out that,  conscious  lives  cannot  be  well  lived.  It  is  one  of 
the  deepest  tragedies  when  an  individual  loses  his  world  view 
and  therewith  his  sense  of  values  and  his  motives.  And  it  is 
possible  for  a  whole  society  to  have  its  ennobling  motives 
run  low,  so  that  it  stands  like  a  mill  upon  the  bank  of  a 
stream  that  has  dried  away  until  it  can  no  longer  turn  the 
wheels. 

Even  barbarians  have  sometimes  held  a  world  view  which 
gave  them  zest  and  power  and  a  certain  nobility.  Great  errors 
have  sometimes  proved  inspiring  and  far  better  than  universal 
vagueness  and  doubt.  Radical  changes  in  the  intellectual 
outlook  imply  modifications  in  the  world  view.  And  never 
have  there  been  changes  so  rapid  and  so  radical  as  those 
which  have  taken  place  in  recent  years.  Our  forefathers 
,tiad  a  definite  world  view  by  which,  according  to  a  kind  of 
Divine  fatalism,  each  saw  his  life  as  an  element  in  a  provi- 
dential course  of  events.  But  the  details  of  that  world  view 
which  served  our  fathers  so  well  were  formulated  in  a  pre- 
scientific  past.  The  new  and  inspiring  world  view  which 
we  now  deeply  need  will  not  result  from  study  of  material 
nature.  It  must  be  derived  from  a  study  of  the  facts  of 
human  life.  Such  study  can  yield  us  a  world  view  in  accord- 
ance with  which  each  will  see  his  life  as  a  factor  in  a  natural 
order,  in  which  inestimable  values  are  at  stake,  to  be  forfeited 
or  achieved  through  an  intelligible  process  of  causation,  in 
which,  for  good  or  evil,  all  men  cooperate. 

Sociology  as  an  Intellectual  Pursuit. — It  was  pointed  out 
above  that  science  has  two  kinds  of  value :  value  as  an  end 
in  itself,  as  part  of  an  elevated,  satisfying,  and  truly  human 


14  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

life;  and  also  value  for  practical  application  in  seeking  other 
ends.  Sociology  proffers  values  of  both  these  kinds.  We 
have  just  seen  that  the  practical  applications  of  sociology 
are  to  be  sought  in  the  promotion  of  welfare  through  the 
modification  and  organization  of  prevalent  activities,  and  also 
in  the  development  of  a  world  view  at  once  inspiring  and 
scientific.  What  shall  we  now  say  of  sociology  as  an  end  in 
itself,  as  a  part  of  life?  What  shall  we  say  of  the  intellectual 
interest  inherent  in  the  pursuit  of  investigations  that  deal 
with  those  realities  which  are  of  the  most  intimate  concern  to 
men,  and  the  causation  of  which  present  the  most  intricate  of 
problems  ? 

When  Herbert  Spencer  set  himself  to  write  a  synthetic 
philosophy  which  should  focus  the  light  which  had  been  shed 
by  all  the  sciences,  he  found  that  one  great  area  of  facts, 
namely  the  facts  of  social  life,  had  not  yet  been  subjected 
to  scientific  analysis,  and  that  a  synthetic  philosophy  could 
not  be  written  until  this  gap  in  the  explorations  of  science 
had  been  filled.  So  he  undertook  some  contribution  to  this 
neglected  field,  and,  as  a  consequence,  at  least  one-third  of 
all  his  writing  was  devoted  to  sociology.  Auguste  Comte  also 
applied  himself  to  the  task  of  writing  a  philosophy  which 
should  be  a  synthesis  of  science,  a  "Philosophic  Positive."  Like 
Spencer,  he  perceived  that  the  positive  or  synthetic  philosophy 
could  not  be  written  until  the  methods  of  science  had  been 
applied  to  the  study  of  social  facts  and,  as  a  result,  about 
one-half  of  his  positive  philosophy  is  a  contribution  to  soci- 
ology. Thus  it  was  that  Comte  whose  writings  shortly  pre- 
ceded those  of  Spencer  came  to  invent  the  word  "sociology" 
and  is  now  spoken  of  as  the  first  sociologist.  Recently  some 
of  the  most  preeminent  representatives  of  physical  science  and 
of  psychological  science,  speaking  independently  each  from  his 
separate  point  of  view,  have  agreed  in  the  opinion  that  as  the 
nineteenth  century  was  the  blossoming  time  of  material  sci- 
ences, so  the  twentieth  century  should  be  the  blossoming  time 
of  the  sciences  which  deal  with  man's  conscious  life.  The  study 
of  society  acquires  special  interest  not  only  from  the  character 
of  the  subject  matter  but  also  from  the  fact  that  it  is  the  chap- 
ter now  opening  in  the  world's  intellectual  life. 


THE  NATURE  OF  THE  STUDY          15 

Comte's  Hierarchy  of  the  Sciences. — Both  Comte  and 
Spencer  set  themselves  to  explain  why  it  was  that  this  most 
interesting  field  of  research  had  waited  so  long  for  scientific 
treatment.  They  found  two  causes.  Spencer  points  out  that 
it  is  in  part  because  the  intense  interest  of  man  in  the  prob- 
lems here  involved  makes  him  cling  to  his  prejudices.  He 
fears  to  disturb  the  world  view  that  in  a  prescientific  age  had 
satisfied  him  and  to  unsettle  cherished  opinions  and  sentiments. 
This  renders  him  unwilling,  and  even  unable,  to  assume  the 
unbiased  and  disinterested  attitude  of  scientific  investigation. 
The  second  reason  was  emphasized  chiefly  by  Comte.  He 
said  it  lay  in  the  fact  that  social  realities  are  of  all  phenomena 
the  most  complex  in  their  causation,  and  therefore  the  most 
difficult'  of  scientific  explanation. 

In  this  connection  Comte  proposed  his  famous  hierarchy 
of  the  sciences,  saying,  that  as  a  matter  of  necessity  those 
sciences  which  deal  with  the  simpler  phenomena  preceded 
those  which  attack  the  phenomena  which  are  more  complex, 
not  merely  because  the  former  are  easier  of  explanation,  but 
also  because  their  explanation  is  a  necessary  step  in  prepara- 
tion for  the  explanation  of  the  more  complex  realities.  Thus 
it  was  indispensable  to  have  a  knowledge  of  the  movements 
of  liquids  and  gases  which  is  afforded  by  physics,  and  also 
the  further  knowledge  of  chemistry,  before  we  could  have 
our  present  science  of  physiology;  and  it  was  necessary  to 
have  physiology  before  we  could  have  the  present  psychology ; 
and  it  is  necessary  to  have  both  physiology  and  psychology1  be- 
fore the  explanations  of  sociology  can  be  sought  with  success. 

Comte's  conception  of  the  hierarchy  of  the  sciences  may 
be  paraphrased  as  follows:  Those  sciences  come  first  that  are 
broadest  in  application  but  thinnest  in  content.  Thus  mathe- 
matics applies  to  all  phenomena  but  tells  us  very  little  about 
any  single  phenomenon,  and  in  mathematics  the  ancients  made 
great  progress.  Next  came  astronomy  which  applies  to  the 
.whole  solar  system  and  more  but  adds  comparatively  little  to 

1  With  reference  to  psychology  this  does  not  exactly  follow  Comte's 
statement.  He  omits  psychology  from  the  hierarchy  of  fundamental 
sciences,  as  is  explained  below. 


16  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

our  knowledge  of  details.  Then,  by  the  same  rule,  follow  in 
order  physics  and  chemistry ;  after  them  biology  which  tells  us 
so  much  but  applies  only  to  living  beings,  and  last  of  all  sociol- 
ogy applying  only  to  the  interrelated  lives  of  the  highest  or- 
ganisms but  dealing  with  the  phenomena  which  are  of  all  the 
richest  in  content. 

It  would  have  indicated  still  more  clearly  the  reasons  for 
such  an  order  to  say  that  scientific  progress  depends  upon  the 
observation  of  facts.  Mathematics  came  first  because  it  needs 
only  such  concrete  facts  as  are  observable  anywhere  by  any 
student.  Many  of  the  movements  of  the  heavenly  bodies  all 
men  must  see.  Not  till  later  do  those  sciences  come  which 
almost  from  the  beginning  require  elaborate  technique  of  ob- 
servation and  experiment,  journeys  of  exploration  and  patient 
comparison  of  facts  widely  scattered  in  space  and  time.  While, 
however,  those  sciences  come  first  that  deal  with  facts  of 
widest  range,  those  most  accessible  to  common  observation, 
this  does  not  mean  that  within  a  given  field  of  science  the 
broadest  generalizations  are  the  first  truths  to  be  discovered. 
On  the  contrary  the  broadest  generalizations  within  a  given 
science  wait  upon  an  extensive  knowledge  of  particulars ;  and 
this  is  a  reason  why  general  sociology  came  later  than  the 
specific  social  sciences. 

According  to  Comte  mathematics,  astronomy,  physics, 
chemistry,  biology  and  sociology  are  the  only  "abstract"  or 
fundamental  sciences,  and  such  disciplines  as  geology  and 
psychology  are  "concrete"  sciences,  which  apply  the  teach- 
ings of  abstract  sciences  to  special  problems,  but  furnish  no 
fundamental  principles  of  explanation.  Geology  is  mainly  an 
application  of  physics ;  and  psychology,  according  to  Comte, 
is  an  application  of  biology  (neurology  and  cerebral  physi- 
ology) and  of  sociology.  Comte  and  his  followers,  including 
such  writers  as  Roberty  and  Caullet,  agree  with  Baldwin  in 
saying  that  the  development  of  mind  depends  upon  associa- 
tion, and  they  go  beyond  Baldwin  in  teaching  that  sociology 
and  physiology  supply  all  the  fundamental  principles  necessary 
for  the  explanation  of  psychic  phenomena.  American  sociolo- 


THE  NATURE  OF  THE  STUDY  i;N 

gists  prefer  to  regard  psychology  as  having  a  place  in  the 
hierarchy  of  fundamental  sciences,  sociology  resting  on 
psychology,  psychology  on  biology,  biology  on  chemistry,  etc. 

Sociology,  then,  as  both  Comte  and  Spencer  pointed  out, 
is  necessarily  the  latest  born  of  all,  because,  first,  it  is  the 
most  intricate  and  therefore  requires  as  instruments  in  its 
researches  or  as  data  for  its  explanations  the  results  achieved 
by  the  antecedent  sciences,  just  as  every  added  physical  science 
has   in  turn  been  built  upon  the   foundation   reared  by  its 
predecessors  1 ;  and  second,  because  it  is  of  all  sciences  the 
most   fraught  with  human  interests  and   so  the   last  to  be 
removed   from  the  dominion  of  passion  and  prejudice  and 
to  be  included  in  the  gradually  extending  realm  of  calm,  dis- 
interested research  and  reflection.  These  great  writers  who 
have  attempted  to  bring  all  science  into  one  perspective  do 
not  hesitate  to  say  that  sociology  is  the  supreme  science.2 
This,   however,   has    reference   rather  to   her   tasks   and 
opportunity  than  to  her  achievements  already  made.     Soci- 
ology  as   yet  has   comparatively   little   conquered   territory, 
and  is  upon  the  outmost  firing  line  of  the  world's  intellectual 
advance. 

1  This  does  not  mean  that  all  progress  must  be  made  in  the  simpler 
science  before  any  progress  can  be  made  in  the  more  complex,  but  that 
considerable  progress  must  be  made  in  the  simpler  before  any  consider- 
able progress  can  be  made  in  the  more  complex,  and  that  additional 
progress  in  the  simpler  opens  the  way  for  additional  progress  in  the 
more  complex. 

2  Such  a  judgment  from  such  writers  as  Comte  and  Spencer  is  at 
least  interesting,  particularly  since  they  were  distinguished  for  their 
grasp  upon  the  whole  field  of  science.    This  breadth  of  grasp  is  illus- 
trated in  that  while  we  think  of  Spencer  primarily  as  a  Sociologist, 
many  think  of  him  primarily  as  a  biologist,  and  an  eminent  German 
psychologist  has  called  Spencer  the  greatest  psychologist  that  has  ever   . 
used  the  English  language. 


CHAPTER   II 
WHAT   IS    INVOLVED    IN    SOCIOLOGICAL    EXPLANATION 

Causation. — The  goal  of  science  is  causal  explanation.  It 
is  therefore  of  fundamental  importance  for  us  to  have  clearly 
in  mind  what  we  mean  by  "causes"  and  by  "explanation." 

The  word  cause  is^  used  in  three  senses,  namely,  with 
reference  to  the  "first  cause."  "second  causes."  and  "final 


The  first  cause  is  that  which  is  conceived  of  as  being  ante- 
cedent to  all  phenomena.  It  may  be  called  God,  or  it  may  be 
referred  to  in  the  language  used  by  Spencer  when  he  said 
that  nothing  is  more  certain  than  that  we  are  always  in  the 
presence  of  an  infinite  and  eternal  energy  from  which  all 
things  proceed.  It  is  the  "one  power"  of  the  monistic  modern 
philosopher.  It  is  conceived  to  be  measureless,  immanent, 
omnipresent,  operative  wherever  any  phenomenon  appears, 
in  every  atom  of  matter  beneath  our  feet  and  in  the  remotest 
star,  in  every  pulsation  of  light,  in  every  chemical  change 
or  functional  process.  It  continuously  causes  everything  that 
appears,  and  without  its  action  every  phenomenon  would  cease. 
The  first  cause  is  absolutely  beyond  our  observation.  We 
know  it  only  by  inference  from  its  manifestations.  We  con- 
ceive it  to  be  the  very  substance  of  every  phenomenon,  but 
it  is  not  itself  phenomenal.  It  is  as  present  and  pervasive 
as  the  atmosphere  or  the  ether,1  but  accessible  to  no  human 
sense.  It  is  beneath  and  beyond  all  science  and  with  it  science. 
as  such,  has  nothing  to  do. 

By  a  final  cause  is  meant  a  terminus  ad  quern,  an  aim,  an 
end,  a  finis.  If  one  should  ask  what  is  the  cause  of  a  large 

1  Physicists  are  now  considering  whether  the  idea  of  the  ether  must 
not  be  replaced  by  some  doctrine  still  more  recondite. 

18 


SOCIOLOGICAL  EXPLANATION  I§ 

number  of  students  entering  a  certain  house  at  about  the 
same  hour  daily,  the  answer  might  be,  "Dinner,"  or,  ''The 
thought  of  dinner;  it  is  their  boarding-house."  Final  causes 
or  ends  of  action  can  be  used  only  in  explaining  the  conduct 
of  intelligent  beings.  It  may  be  conceived  that  there  is  a 
final  cause  for  the  existence  and  maintenance  of  the  universe. 
If  so,  it  has  its  abode  only  in  the  infinite  intelligence. 

Two  sorts  of  phenomena  are  sometimes  denoted  by  the 
term  "final  cause,"  it  being  used  in  the  one  case  to  denote  a 
thought  and  desire  existing  within  the  actor's  mind,  in  the 
other  case  to  denote  an  external  reality  toward  which  he 
presses.  If  final  causes  play  any  part  at  all  in  scientific  expla- 
nation it  is  because  they  are  also  second  causes ;  that  is,  con- 
ditioning phenomena  antecedent  to  resultant  phenomena  which 
are  to  be  explained.  Except  as  they  may  be  regarded  as  second 
causes,  science  has  no  more  to  do  with  final  causes  than  it 
has  to  do  with  the  first  cause. 

Second  causes  are  those  phenomena  which  are  necessary  a 
antecedent  conditions  of  some  other  phenomenon  which  has 
been  taken  as  an  object  for  explanation.  Of  all  these  three 
kinds  of  causes,  it  is  with  second  causes  alone  that  science 
deals. 

It  is  conceived  that  the  first  manifestations  of  the  One 
Power  were  simple  but  that  they  combined  to  form  the  con- 
ditions of  additional  manifestations;  that  these  new  mani- 
festations combined  with  each  other  and  those  which  had 
preceded  them  to  form  the  conditions  of  yet  other  phenomena ; 
that  these  in  turn,  when  added  to  all  that  had  gone  before, 
afforded  the  conditions  of  still  other  phenomena  2 ;  that  this 
was  repeated  until  there  was  accomplished  the  evolution  of 
systems  of  inorganic  matter  and  the  ascending  forms  of 
vegetable  and  animal  life,  culminating  in  man  and  the  activi- 
ties of  man.  Every  observable  phenomenon  is  thus  condi- 

1  "Necessary"  in  the  language  of  science  and  common-sense. 
Science,  as  distinguished  from  metaphysics,  does  not  discuss  the  ques- 
tion of  absolute  necessity. 

"  The  word  "phenomena"  does  not  mean  "things"  alone,  but  a!so 
ftualities,  movements,  relations,  etc. 


20  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

tioned  upon  the  preexistence  of  antecedent  phenomena,  and 
upon  certain  necessary  relations  in  which  the  antecedent  phe- 
nomena are  assembled,  these  relations  themselves  being  in 
fact  phenomena,  that  is,  observable  realities,  as  truly  as  the 
things  which  stand  in  these  relations  to  each  other. 

Every  fact  in  nature,  every  thought  or  act  of  man,  every 
breath  of  a  living  thing,  the  path  of  every  snowflake  in 
January,  is  linked  with  other  facts  which  we  term  its  "causes," 
or  "conditions,"  in  the  absence  of  which  it  could  not  appear, 
and  each  of  these  conditioning  facts,  in  turn,  is  linked  with 
yet  others  by  which  it  is  conditioned,  so  that  the  whole  of 
nature  is  knit  up  in  a  unity  of  mutual  causation.  The  task 
of  science  is  to  set  forth  the  mutual  conditioning  of  phe- 
nomena, by  which  they  exist  together  in  a  system  of  ante- 
cedents and  consequences.  The  antecedent  phenomena  which 
condition  the  rise  of  resultant  phenomena  are  called  second 
causes  in  contrast  with  the  universal  first  cause. 

Second  causes  are  the  conditions,  sine  qua  non,  cf  any 
result  which  is  to  be  explained.  Soil,  seed,  sunshine  and  the 
farmer's  labor  are  such  causes  or  conditions  of  the  autumn 
crop.  Every  phenomenon  which  is  capable  of  scientific  expla- 
nation is  in  this  sense  caused,  and  it  is  to  discover  this  causa- 
tion which  is  the  goal  of  science.  It  is  a  knowledge  of  this 
causation  which  renders  possible  the  practical  applications  of 
science,  for  it  is  by  controlling  the  conditions  upon  which 
results  depend  that  desired  results  are  obtained  and  the  unde- 
sired  are  avoided. 

Explanation  and  Scientific  Law. — A  clear  conception  of 
what  is  meant  by  causation  carries  with  it  our  idea  of  ex- 
planation. An  explanation  is  a  statement  of  the  antecedent 
conditions,  including  conditioning  relationsf  which  make  pos- 
sible the  resultant  phenomenon  which  was  to  be  explained. 
Thus  the  explanation  of  a  chemical  reaction  and  a  resulting 
compound  includes  a  statement  of  all  the  substances  which 
enter  into  the  reaction,  their  quantities,  their  states  of  mass, 
mixture,  and  temperature,  and  'whatever  must  be  brought 
into  conjunction  in  order  to  secure  by  experiment  the  same 
reaction  and  the  same  resulting  compound.  A  scientific  law 


SOCIOLOGICAL  EXPLANATION  21 

in  the  most  perfect  form  is  a  generalized  explanation ;  that 
is,  an  explanation  which  applies  not  merely  to  a  single  fact 
but  also  to  a  whole  class  of  facts. 

There  can  be  no  law  for  the  appearance  of  a  unique 
phenomenon ;  it  may  be  explained  but  its  explanation  cannot 
be  generalized.  A  causal  law  of  science  is  a  statement  ^Q.f 
the  conditions  out  of  which  a  recurrent  phenomenon  regularly 
emerges.  Explanation  of  a  single  occurrence  may  be  thus 
symbolized,  x  representing  the  phenomenon  to  be  explained 
and  a  b  c  its  necessary  antecedent  or  accompanying  conditions : 

x 
ab  c 

A  causal  law  may  be  thus  symbolized: 

x         x         x         x          x         x         x         x         x 
ab  c    ab  c    ab  c    ab  c    ab  c    ab  c    ab  c    ab  c    ab  c — etc. 

According  to  Wilhelm  Wundt  a  scientific  law  has  the 
three  following  characteristics  * : 

1.  It  is  a  statement  in  which  subject  and  predicate  are 
logically  independent  ideas ;  that  is,  the  predicate  is  not  implied 
in  the  subject.    For  example,  the  statement  that  every  normal 
man  has  four  limbs,  or  twenty-four  ribs,  is  not  a  scientific 
law,  because  the  possession  of  four  limbs  and  twenty-four 
ribs  is  included  in  the  idea  of  a  normal  man. 

2.  A  scientific  law  either  states  or  implies  a  causal  rela- 
tionship.   "A  causal  law,"  which  is  the  highest  form  of  scien- 
tific law,  is  the   explicit  statement   of   a  generalized   causal 
explanation.    The  name  "empirical  law"  may  be  given  to  the 
statement  of  any  regular  relationship   between  independent 
concepts  which  implies  the  existence  of  some  causal  relation- 
ship underlying  this  observed  regularity,  whether  that  cause 
is  already  known  or  still  an  undiscovered  object  for  future 
scientific  search. 

3.  A  scientific  law  is  a  general  truth  which  may  serve 
as  a  guide  leading  to  further  discoveries ;  thus  the  law  that 
man  must  eat  or  die,  though  it  is  a  true  empirical  law  and 

1  "Methoden-Lehre."    Stuttgart,  1895.    Part  II,  p.  129  seq. 


22  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

rests  upon  well  understood  causation,  yet  does  not  open  a 
pathway  into  the  unknown  in  such  a  way  as  to  be  esteemed  a 
scientific  law. 

Problem  Phenomena,  Their  Constituent  Elements,  and  Their 
Environing  Conditions. — Each  of  the  higher  sciences  in  the 
hierarchy  has  to  deal  with  three  sets  of  phenomena.  First 
are  those  which  it  undertakes  to  explain,  which  may  be  called 
its  problem  phenomena  and  which  are  symbolized  by  x  in  the 
preceding  illustration.  Second  are  the  conditioning  phenom- 
ena, which  are  the  terms  in  its  explanations,  and  are  sym- 
bolized by  a  b  c  in  the  same  illustration.  Third  are  the 
elements  into  which  the  problem  phenomena  must  be  analyzed, 
which  may  be  symbolized  by  win  o  in  the  expression, 
x  =  m  n  o. 

It  is  of  importance  to  observe  that  the  problem  phenomena 
of  a  distinct  science  all  belong  to  one  distinct  class,  while 
the  conditioning  phenomena  may  belong  to  all  classes.  Thus, 
the  problem  phenomena  of  botany  are  of  one  distinct  class,  but 
the  conditioning  phenomena  by  which  they  are  explained  in- 
clude peculiarities  of  soil,  variations  in  climate,  etc.,  which  are 
not  botanical  facts  at  all.  Moreover,"  the  botanical  facts  them- 
selves when  analyzed  into  their  elements  are  found  to  be 
composed  of  a  number  of  minute  physical  and  chemical  facts. 

The  failure  to  observe  the  contrast  between  conditioning 
phenomena  and  problem  phenomena,  as  well  as  between  the 
problem  phenomena  and  the  elemental  phenomena  of  which 
they  are  composed  and  which,  uniting,  form  a  new  and  com- 
plex reality  quite  different  from  the  particular  elements  enter- 
ing into  the  combination,  has  caused  a  great  deal  of  confusion 
of  thought  among  those  who  have  attempted  to  define  sociology 
or  to  prove  or  disprove  its  importance  as  an  independent 
science. 

Failure  to  distinguish  between  the  problem  phenomena 
and  the  elements  of  which  they  are  composed  confuses  soci- 
ology with  psychology,  for  as  we  shall  see  more  clearly  here- 
after, customs  and  institutions  are  composed  of  accepted  ideas, 
sentiments  of  approval  and  disapproval,  and  common  prac- 
tices ;  that  is  to  say,  the  massive  and  complex  social  realities 


SOCIOLOGICAL  EXPLANATION  23 

are  composed  of  minute  psychic  elements.  Failure  to  dis- 
tinguish between  problem  phenomena  and  conditioning  phe- 
nomena confuses  sociology  with  geography,  physical  anthro- 
pology, hygiene,  engineering  as  applied  to  housing  and  sanita- 
tion, and  whatever  plays  a  part  in  conditioning  social  realities. 
Sociology  must  deal  with  massed  and  correlated  psychic 
elements,  and  with  environmental  factors  of  every  kind  by 
which  social  customs  and  institutions  are  effectively  condi- 
tioned. Some  people  think  that  dealing  with  such  a  wide 
range  of  facts  makes  of  sociology  a  hodge-podge,  an  attempted 
science,  without  boundaries  and  incapable  of  definition.  But 
in  this  respect  sociology  is  in  exactly  the  same  kind  of  posi- 
tion as  biology,  which,  in  order  to  deal  successfully  with  its 
task,  must  recognize  that  all  living  beings  and  all  physiological 
processes  are  massed  and  correlated  physical  and  chemical 
facts,  and  in  its  ecology  must  explain  variations  in  animal 
and  vegetable  species  by  reference  to  land  elevation,  quan- 
tity of  rainfall,  amount  of  light,  etc.,  thus  doing  for  biological 
forms  exactly  what  sociology  does  for  social  types.  The 
chemist,  physicist,  meteorologist,  and  geographer  do  not  com- 
plain of  the  biologist  because  he  employs  chemical,  physical, 
meteorological  and  geographic  facts  in  the  solution  of  his 
problems.  If  they  did,  the  biologist  would  answer:  "Can 
you  as  a  chemist,  or  physicist,  or  meteorologist,  or  geographer, 
solve  the  problems  of  biology?"  The  reply  of  the  sociologist 
is  the  same.  This  kind  of  objection  is  removed  by  an  under- 
standing of  the  proper  mode  of  outlining  the  field  of  a  science, 
which  clearly  differentiates  problem  phenomena  from  their 
constituent  elements  and  especially  from  their  conditions,  and 
their  consequences.  The  problem  phenomena  of  sociology  are 
of  one  clear  and  distinct  class,  as  much  so  as  those  of  the 
best  established  sciences.  But  neither  they  nor  any  other 
complex  phenomena  can  be  understood  except  by  being  seen 
and  described  with  reference  to  their  elements  and  their  con- 
ditions and  their  consequences.  The  relation  of  sociology  to 
psychology  and  to  the  physical  sciences  is  freed  from  all 
vagueness  or  difficulty  if  these  considerations  are  once  clearly 
apprehended. 


24  INTRODUCTION  TO  -SOCIOLOGY 

The  Kinds  of  Conditioning  Phenomena. — The  conditioning' 
phenomena  which  determine  prevalent  social  activities  are  of 
four  kinds :  geographic,  technic,  psychophysical,  and  social. 

1.  Geographic  conditions  are  the  natural  physical  environ- 
ment presented  by  the  country  inhabited  and  include:     (i) 
aspect,   (2)   climate,   (3)   soil,    (4)   water  supply,    (5)   other 
mineral  resources,  (6)  flora,  (7)  fauna,  (8)  topography. 

2.  Technic  conditions  are  the  material  products  of  human 
work,  which,  having  once  been  produced,  are  conditions  of 
further  activities ;  geographic  conditions  are  the  natural  phys- 
ical environment  and  technic  conditions  are  the  artificial  phys- 
ical environment.    Rivers  are  part  of  the  geographic  environ- 
ment, but  canals  and  bridges  are  part  of  the  technic  environ- 
ment; caves  are  geographic,   houses   are  technic;  mountain 
passes  are  geographic,  roads  and  railroads  are  technic ;  bays 
are  geographic,  but  harbors,  dredged  and  fitted  with  docks, 
are  technic;  herds  of  buffalo  are  geographic,  but  herds  of 
domesticated  and  man-bred  cattle  are  technic.     Geographic 
and  technic  conditions  alike  are  physical  conditions  of  social 
activity,  yet  it  is  of  great  practical  and  theoretical  importance 
to  distinguish  clearly  between  them,  because  geographic  con- 
ditions are  little  subject  to  human  control,  while  technic  con- 
ditions  are   so   highly   subject  to   human   control   that  their 
modification  is  one  of  the  chief  methods  of  progress ;  and 
also  because  geographic  conditions  have  their  «iajor  signifi- 
cance in  explaining  the  earlier  and  indigenous  stages  of  social 
evolution,  while  the  relative  importance  of  technic  conditions 
increases  as  social  progress  becomes  more  advanced  and  more 
cosmopolitan. 

Technic  conditions  are  of  two  main  sorts:  (i)  wealth, 
(j2,)  grouping  of  population.  Migration  is  a  technic  achieve- 
ment as  truly  as  the  transportation  of  goods ;  so  is  the  assem- 
bling and  maintenance  of  city  groups ;  so  indeed  is  all  in- 
crease of  population  beyond  the  tiny  primitive  hordes  which 
were  the  only  population  units  produced  by  unaided  nature. 
The  important  variations  in  wealth  as  a  technic  condition  of 
social  activities  are :  (a)  its  forms,  including  nomadic  herds, 
cultivated  fields,  and  villages  of  settled  abodes,  steam-driven 


SOCIOLOGICAL  EXPLANATION  25 

factories,  railroads,  etc.;  (b)  its  amount,  and  (c)  the  distri- 
bution of  its  ownership  or  use  among  the  individuals  and 
classes  of  the  population.  The  important  variations  in  popu- 
lation groups  are  (a)  in  numbers,  and  (b)  in  distribution  in 
space. 

3.  Psychophysical  conditions  are  either  (i)  congenital  or 
(2)  acquired.     Congenital  psychophysical  conditions  include: 
(a)  age,  (b)  sex,  (c)  race,  (d)  psychic  predisposition,  tem- 
perament,  natural   endowment,    (e)    hereditary   disease   and 
defect.      Acquired   psychophysical   conditions   include:      (a) 
acquired  diseases  and  defects,    (b)    developed  strength  and 
skill,  (c)  psychic  dispositions,  such  as  habits,  second  nature, 
and  subconscious  set. 

In  this  connection  it  is  necessary  to  have  clearly  in  mind 
that  no  idea,  belief,  or  sentiment,  nor  any  part  of  the  content 
of  consciousness  is  ever  inherited,  but  only  the  capacity  for 
them.  No  one  ever  inherits  in  the  literal  biological  sense, 
either  his  politics  or  his  religion,  or  his  conscience  or  his  trade. 
The  business  of  sociology  is  to  bring  together  into  one  ex- 
plaridtion  all  of  the  numerous  and  diverse  conditions  that 
determine  the  content  of  the  life  of  society  and  of  the  indi- 
viduals of  whom  society  is  composed. 

4.  Social  conditions.     Most  important  of  all   in  deter- 
mining what  shall  be  approved  and  what  condemned  by  the 
conscience  of  the  Southerner,  the  Northerner,  the  Israelite,  or 
the  Turk,  what  creeds,  crafts,  prejudices  and  ambitions  shall 
prevail  in  a  given  society,  are  the  social  conditions ;  that  is, 
the  already  prevalent  ideas  and  sentiments  by  which   each 
individual  and  each  generation  is  surrounded.     In  the  study 
of  social  conditions  it  will  be  necessary  to  observe   (i)   the 
kinds  of  activity  which  prevail  in  a  given  social  environment, 
and   (2)  the  forms  of  relationship  in  which  these  activities 
stand  to  each  other.     What  is  meant  by  forms  of  relation- 
ship will  be  made  clear  later  on.1 

1  With  the  foregoing  discussion  compare  articles  by  the  present 
writer  on  "The  Social  Forces  Error."  American  Journal  of  Sociology, 
xvi,  613,  642. 


PART   I 

THE  CAUSES  WHICH  AFFECT  THE  LIFE  OF 
SOCIETY 


I.    GEOGRAPHIC   CAUSES   WHICH   AFFECT 
THE   LIFE   OF    SOCIETY 


CHAPTER   III 
GEOGRAPHIC  CAUSES  AND  THEIR  SOCIAL  EFFECTS 

The  Less  Conspicuous  Geographic  Differences  Socially  Im- 
portant.— We  are  all  familiar  in  a  superficial  way  with  the 
obvious  fact  that  the  activities  of  a  people  are  largely  deter- 
mined by  their  geographic  environment.  Life  cannot  be  the 
same  in  arctic  regions  as  in  the  tropics,  nor  upon  deserts  of 
drifting  sand  as  upon  the  grassy  steppes  which  afford  the 
natural  home  for  wandering  shepherds  and  their  herds,  nor 
upon  the  seacoast  with  its  fisheries  and  commerce  as  among 
the  mountains  with  their  forests  and  mines.  But  it  is  not 
alone  the  extreme  and  unusual  manifestations  of  nature  which 
affect  the  life  of  man.  On  the  contrary  the  very  absence  of 
extremes  has  helped  to  make  Europe  the  seat  of  the  richest 
civilization.  So  relatively  inconspicuous  a  fact  as  the  absence 
of  a  creature  adapted  to  be  domesticated  .and  milked  might 
cause  one  incipient  social  type  to  be  crushed  out  in  the  struggle 
for  existence,  or  the  presence  of  a  creature"  adapted  to  be- 
come a  beast  of  burden  might  .enable  one  people  to  grow 
into  a  triumphant  race,  corftributors  to  a  dominant  civilization, 
and  the  absende  of  such  a  creature  might  condemn  another 
race  to  backwardness  and  final  extinction.  The  follow- 
ing effects  of  geographic  conditions  deserve  particular  men- 
tion: 

1.  Geographic  Conditions  Determine  the  Size  of  Popula- 
tions.— Thronging  cities  are  found  at  points  of  geographic 
advantage.  And  in  the  original  development  of  civilization 
populations  first  assembled  in  considerable  density  where  na- 

29 


30  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

ture  was  especially  lavish  of  food.  Thus  the  valleys  of  the 
Nile,  Euphrates,  Ganges,  and  Piho  became  cradles  of  civiliza- 
tion. The  familiar  differences  between  city  and  country  life 
illustrate  the  importance  of  different  degrees  of  density  of 
population  in  determining  the  character  of  society.  Far  more 
in  the  earlier  stages  of  development,  when  social  activities  were 
mainly  indigenous,  any  great  advancement  was  conditioned 
upon  considerable  density  and  number  of  population.  Divi- 
sion of  occupations  could  not  go  far  save  in  considerably 
numerous  groups.  Where  the  numbers  were  large  the  chances 
of  invention  were  proportionally  increased,  and  where  popu- 
lation was  dense  there  was  similar  increase  in  the  chances 
that  such  inventions  as  occurred  would  not  be  lost  but  would 
spread,  and  enter  into  fertile  combination  with  other  elements 
of  progress.  Moreover,  the  permanence  and  accumulation  of 
a  strain  of  social  development  has  been  largely  conditioned 
upon  the  military  strength  which  enabled  a  group  to  maintain 
itself  and  to  absorb  other  groups,  and  this  in  turn  depended 
largely  upon  numbers. 

2.  The  Economic  Occupations  of  a  People  Are  Determined 
by  Their  Geographic  Environment. — Geographic  situation  de- 
termines both  demand  and  supply.  For  example,  the  economic 
products  demanded  in  a  cold  country  are  not  the  same  as 
those  demanded  in  a  hot  country.  Supply  and  the  occupations 
of  production  are  determined  also  by  the  raw  materials  and 
natural  advantages  available.  In  one  region  the  men  will  be 
farmers ;  in  another,  herdsmen ;  in  another,  fishers  and  sailors ; 
in  another,  hunters,  trappers,  woodsmen;  in  another,  miners. 
The  business  of  one  locality  is  determined  by  the  presence 
of  deposits  of  coal  and  iron;  of  another,  by  the  presence  of 
waterpower,  and  of  another  by  the  presence  of  lumber  or 
quarries  or  clay  for  the  making  of  pottery  and  bricks.  Thus, 
we  have  steel  mills  at  Pittsburgh,  and  textile  factories  where 
the  rivers  that  pass  the  Appalachians 'to  empty  into  the  Atlantic 
afford  abundant  power.  The  correspondence  between  the 
economic  occupations  of  a  people  and  the  geographic  charac- 
ter of  the  region  in  which  they  live  is  very  complete  during 
all  the  earlier  stages  of  development  and  until  the  railroad 


GEOGRAPHIC  CAUSES  31 

makes  it  possible  to  redistribute  raw  materials,  fuel,  and 
finished  products. 

Moreover,  whatever  determines  the  way  in  which  a  people 
get  their  living,  largely  determines  the  way  in  which  they 
live,  so  that  the  geographic  conditions  which  prescribe  their 
economic  activities  thereby  indirectly  determine  to  a  very 
large  extent  all  the  other  departments  of  their  social  life.  It 
affects  their  form  of  government  as  will  presently  be  ex- 
plained. It  influences  the  domestic  organization — polyandry 
in  Tibet  arises  from  poverty  of  soil;  woman  has  rights  and 
influence  among  fisher  folk  of  the  seashore,  where  men  are 
much  away  from  home  and  leave  its  management  to  their 
spouses ;  the  pastoral  life  of  the  steppes  has  for  its  correlate 
the  patriarchate  and  as  a  rule  polygyny.  The  occupations  of 
a  people  give  direction  to  their  intellectual  interests  and  to 
their  esthetic  and  recreational  tastes,  and  to  their  original 
religious  creeds. 

3.  Stagnation  and  Progressiveness  Are  Conditioned  Largely 
by  Geographic  Surroundings. — Mountain  barriers,  swamps, 
forests  and  deserts  hinder  the  intercommunication  which  is 
the  first  condition  of  social  progress,  while  rivers  which  are 
"highways  that  carry  you,"  good  harbors  inviting  a  people 
to  put  to  sea,  mountain  passes  and  other  natural  routes  of 
travel,  promote  rapid  social  progress  in  favored  regions. 
However,  under  some  circumstances  a  certain  degree  of  re- 
moteness may  aid  progress.  Thus  Egypt  early  acquired  a 
large  enough  population  for  fertile  intercommunication 
through  the  lavish  gifts  of  the  Nile,  and  the  wealth  and 
progress  there  accumulated  was,  during  the  earlier  stages  of 
civilization,  more  easily  defended  from  marauders  by  reason 
of  the  distance  of  other  centers  of  population,  which  was 
caused  by  the  surrounding  desert.  Egypt,  however,  was 
successively  visited  and  peopled  by  various  wandering  folk. 
Isolation  tends  everywhere  to  stagnation,  which,  in  the"  case 
of  primitive  peoples,  occurs  as  soon  as  the  most  urgent  natural 
wants  have  found  a  customary  mode  of  satisfaction.  On 
the  other  hand,  the  crust  of  custom  is  broken  up  where  con- 
tact  with  other  groups  brings  the  indigenous  modes  of  thought 


32  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

and  practice  into  frequent  competition  with  those  of  other 
people,  allowing  not  only  a  survival  of  the  fittest,  but  also  a 
fertile  combination  of  diverse  inventions. 

4.  Lawlessness  Is  the  Natural  Consequence  of  Geographic 
Inaccessibility   and   Poverty  of   Natural   Resources. — This  is 
true  for  two  reasons :    first,  because  the  people  of  a  poor 
and   inaccessible   region   feel  little  need  of  protection   from 
invaders,  and  so  do  not  desire  and  will  not  tolerate  a  strong 
guard  over  them;  and  second,  because  offenders  in  an  inac- 
cessible region  are  not  easily  caught  and  punished.     Banditti 
and   feuds  and  other   forms  of  violence  survive  longest  in 
mountain    fastnesses   where   the   arm  of   the   law   can    with 
difficulty  reach  the  offender,  while  in  the  open  plain  order  is 
established  with  comparative  ease,  not  only  because  all  men 
are  within  the  reach  of  the  law,  but  also  because  all  men  desire 
that  the  law  shall  be  strong,  since  their  accessibility  renders 
them  open  to  the  attacks  of  marauders.     If  a  fertile  plain 
exists  in  the  neighborhood  of  mountain  wilds  the  inhabitants 
of  the  plain  tend  to  develop  a  government  strong  enough  to 
hold  at  bay  their  poor  and  envious  neighbors  of  the  mountain- 
sides and  also  to  repress  the  disorders  of  their  own  unruly 
members.    Geographic  conditions  indirectly  affect  the  rapidity 
with  which   order  is   developed   in   that   a   region   which   is 
favorable  to  the  accumulation  of  wealth  calls  for  strong  gov- 
ernment  to   protect   its   treasures.     Thus,   in   the  case   just 
supposed,   the  poverty  of  the  mountaineers   combines   with 
their  inaccessibility  to  postpone  order,  while  the  wealth  of 
the  plainsmen  combines  with  their  accessibility  to  hasten  it. 

5.  The  Form  of  Government  Is  Affected  by  Geographic 
Conditions. — Exclusively  agricultural  regions  are  nearly  always 
aristocratic  because  land  is  a  natural  monopoly,  and  where 
agriculture  is  the  only  or  chief  source  of  wealth  power  goes 
with  the  possession   of  the   land.     Immigrant  agriculturists, 
taking  possession  of  a  new  territory,  may  remain  democratic 
or  become  increasingly  so  as  long  as  free  land  is  obtainable. 
But  as  soon  as  the  population  increases  so  that  land  is  costly 
then  those  who  possess  land  may  readily  obtain  more,  but 
the  landless  foborer  can  rarely  obtain  land  enough  to  supDoi? 


GEOGRAPHIC  CAUSES  33 

him;  and  such  persons  tend  to  become  tenants  or  hired 
laborers  if  not  serfs.  In  an  old  agricultural  community  the 
rich  and  powerful,  by  gradually  increasing  their  holdings, 
widen  the  gulf  between  them  and  the  landless. 

There  are  two  forms  of  agrarian  aristocracy.  First  is 
that  which  gradually  replaces  common  ownership  of  land 
among  a  long  established  agricultural  people;  and  second, 
that  in  which  land  is  seized  by  the  chiefs  of  an  invading 
people.  \ 

Commerce,  on  the  other  hand,  tends  to  democracy.  If 
people  are  settled  about  a  favorable  harbor  or  route  of  trade, 
and  if  they  develop  any  industry  the  products  of  which  can 
be  exchanged  and  that  depends  upon  skill  and  industry  and 
not  upon  the  utilization  of  a  raw  material  that  is  liable  to 
monopoly,  then  they  tend  to  become  democratic,  as  did  the 
maritime  cities  of  Greece  and  Italy,  and  the  halting  places 
of  the  caravans  that  connected  Europe  with  the  Orient. 
These  did  not  become  democratic  in  the  modern  sense  of  the 
word.  That  consummation  waited  for  the  development  of 
popular  ideals  concerning  the  universal  rights  of  man,  and 
could  not  be  brought  about  directly  by  mere  geographic  in- 
fluences. But  they  were  democracies  in  the  sense  that  many 
were  well-to-do,  and  the  well-to-do  were  free.  Commerce 
breaks  down  aristocracy  not  only  because  a  larger  number  be- 
come prosperous,  but  also  because  social  classes  are  no  longer 
separated  by  an  impassable  line  of  stratification.  Where  com- 
merce exists  the  poor  peddler  may  become  the  rich  merchant, 
and  the  son  of  the  bankrupt,  once  wealthy,  sinks  into  poverty. 
On  the  other  hand,  landed  estates  are  less  easily  dissipated, 
as  well  as  less  easily  acquired,  and  descend  from  generation 
to  generation,  so  that  the  stratification  of  society  becomes 
permanent,  and  the  illusions  of  caste  grow  up.  Not  only 
does  the  noble  claim  to  be  of  different  clay  from  the  peasant, 
but  also  the  peasant,  who  was  born  in  a  hut,  is  attired  in 
hodden  gray,  speaks  the  dialect  of  the  furrow  and  not  of 
the  hall,  and  plods  through  a  life  of  toil  in  the  habit  of 
obedience,  admits  that  he  is  of  inferior  stuff  and  does  not 
aspire  to  equality  with  those  who  sit  in  state  or  ride  in  armor. 


34  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

and  are  taught  from  childhood  to  feel  themselves  born  to 
command.  Further,  the  early  democracies  are  limited  to  dense 
populations  collected  within  a  small  area  among  whom  com- 
munication and  cooperation  are  easy,  for  without  facility  of 
communication  the  many  cannot  combine  to  form  and  express^ 
a  common  will. 

6.  Tastes  and  Social  and  Domestic  Customs  Are  Influenced 
by  Geographic  Conditions. — Football  is  out  of  place  in  the 
tropics,   and  ice-skating  is   impossible.     Athletic   sports   are 
indigenous  to  cool  climates,  and  are  sometimes  the  objects  of 
amazement  to  inhabitants  of  torrid  regions.     The  long  even- 
ings of  the  northern  winter  call  into  being  suitable  pastimes. 
The  working  hours  of  torrid  regions  are  interrupted  at  mid- 
day and  the  siesta  is  an  established  custom.    Hours  for  calling 
and  for  social  reunions  and  for  work  differ  from  place  to 
place.      Still  more  marked  are  the  differences   in   dress,   in 
houses,  and  in  household  furnishings  and  conveniences.    These 
practical   differences   occasion   differences   in   the   fancies  -of 
fashion  in  dress  and  in  architecture  and  in  the  art  crafts 
which  furnish  the  esthetic  elements  in  household  goods  and 
articles  of  personal  use.     So  great  are  these  differences  that 
the  arts  and  fashions  of  one  people  seem  to  another  strange 
and  fantastic.    The  materials  available  in  a  given  locality  for 
making  articles  of  use  and  beauty  also  affect  the  development 
of  tastes.    Clay  makes  possible  ceramic  arts,  and  marble  was 
necessary  to  the  Grecian  taste  for  temples  and  statues.     The 
art   of    Greece   is   due   in   part   to   the   quarries    of    Mount 
Pentelicus. 

7.  Ethical  Differences  Are  Largely   Influenced   by   Geo- 
graphic Environment. — The  study  of  comparative  sociology 
reveals  the  fact  that  the  conscience  codes  of  various  peoples 
differ   amazingly,   and   these  ethical   differences   are   largely 
influenced  by  geographic  environment. 

We  are  all  familiar  with  the  fact  that  the  commercial  and 
manufacturing  North  with  relatively  little  use  for  the  clumsy 
labor  of  the  slave  found  it  comparatively  easy  to  see  the 
moral  objections  to  slavery,  while  in  the  agricultural  South 
refined,  gentle,  and  Christian  people  were  long  able  to  regafcj 


GEOGRAPHIC  CAUSES  35 

slavery  as  a  divine  institution.  Certain  environments  tend  to 
pastoral  industry  and  patriarchal  society.  There  filial  duty 
is  the  supreme  obligation;  child-bearing  is  the  wife's  ambi- 
tion ;  sexual  irregularities  are  seriously  condemned,  but  the 
increase  of  the  family  of  the  great  by  polygynous  marriages 
is  thoroughly  approved.  Such  was  the  family  of  Abraham. 
Under  the  feudalism  naturally  resulting  from  predominant 
agriculture,  obedience  and  loyalty  form  the  central  pillar  of 
the  ethical  structure;  each  prays  that  he  may  do  his  duty  in 
his  lot  and  station  in  becoming  obedience  to  his  betters.  But 
in  commercial  democracy  independence  and  individual  pride 
are  the  motives  of  honor,  and  the  test  of  honor  is  not  a 
loyalty  to  one's  own  patriarchal  or  feudal  superiors  which 
may  sanction  treachery  and  pillage  to  all  outsiders  save  the 
accepted  guest,  but  an  honesty  that  extends  even  to  the 
merchant  from  overseas. 

In  northern  latitudes  the  sharp  alternation  of  the  seasons 
demanding  that  each  season's  work  must  be  done  at  its  proper 
time  necessitates  promptness  and  energy  that  does  not  wait 
for  impulse.  There  nature,  which  enriches  man  by  accumu- 
lated margins  of  saving  but  is  never  lavish,  enforces  thrift 
and  economy,  and  these  become  customs  of  society,  habits 
of  the  individual,  and  prized  virtues.  But  the  thrift  of  the 
Northerner  often  looks  to  his  Southern  brother  like  niggardli- 
ness, and  the  ease  and  lavishness  of  the  Southerner  to  the 
Northerner  may  seem  like  laziness,  disregard  of  obligation, 
and  prodigality. 

8.  Mythologies  and  Religions  Are  Influenced  by  Geo- 
graphic Environment. — What  the  nature-myths  of  a  people 
shall  be  depends  in  part  upon  what  aspects  of  nature  in 
their  neighborhoods  are  most  impressive,  whether  they  live 
by  the  sea,  upon  the  banks  of  a  great  river,  among  the  moun- 
tains, in  the  depths  of  the  forest,  or  on  a  plain  where  the 
overarching  sky  with  sun  and  stars  chiefly  command  the  gaze. 
Moreover,  geographic  environments  affect  religions  indirectly 
through  the  other  social  forms  to  which  they  give  rise.  The 
existing  form  of  earthly  power  and  authority  tends  to  shape 
man's  notion  of  divine  rule.  Cruel  despotisms  are  wont  to 


36  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

have  bloodthirsty  gods,  and  the  patriarchal,  as  compared  with 
other  equally  early  forms  of  government,  seems  the  most 
favorable  to  belief  in  a  god  interested  in  the  welfare  of  his 
people.  Indeed  the  patriarchate  through  the  development  of 
reverence  and  worship  for  the  spirits  of  departed  ancestors 
opens  wide  the  way  to  belief  in  a  father-god. 

9.  Geographic  Conditions  Affect  the  Moods  and  Psychic 
Tendencies  of  a  People. — It  is  a  fact  familiar  to  us  all  that  in 
humid  weather  the  vital  flame  seems  to  burn  with  little  draft, 
while  in  a  crisp  atmosphere  it  leaps  up  brightly.  The  rapidity 
or  slowness  of  evaporation  seems  to  affect  directly  the  chem- 
istry of  the  vital  processes.  Not  only  are  the  general  vital 
processes,  upon  which  the  action  of  the  brain  and  nervous 
system  depends,  affected  by  conditions  of  heat,  light,  and 
moisture,  but  the  nerves  themselves  are  directly  stimulated 
or  depressed.  To  this  cause  it  has  been  ascribed  that  the 
cradles  of  civilization  have  been  found  in  dry  regions  like 
the  Egyptian  oasis  in  the  desert  and  the  plains  of  Iran  and  of 
Central  America. 

The  original  seats  of  civilization  have  been  in  climates  that 
were  warm  as  well  as  dry.  In  the  earth's  warm  belt  only 
occasional  spots  have  sufficient  dryness  and  rapidity  of  evap- 
oration, and  these  are  said  to  have  been  the  original  seed 
plots  or  nurseries  from  which  the  germs  of  civilization  have 
spread.  Though  food  was  abundant  yet  it  was  probably 
quite  impossible  that  indigenous  civilization  like  that  of  Egypt 
should  arise  in  the  dank  heat  that  prevails  in  certain  other 
portions  of  Africa.  The  wine  of  America's  "translucent, 
transcendent,  transplendent"  atmosphere  quickens  the  life  of 
her  people. 

Not  only  does  climate  affect  the  permanent  tendencies  of 
races,  but  passing  changes  of  the  seasons  x  affect  the  moods 
of  men.  Alternations  of  the  seasons  give  variety  to  life  and 
stimulation  to  the  imagination.  Further,  the  experienced 
teacher  or  prison  warden  knows  that  there  are  muggy  days 

1  Albert  Leffingwell :  Influence  of  the  Seasons  upon  Conduct.  Swan, 

Sonnenschein  &  Co.,  London,  1892. 
E.  G.  Dexter :   Weather  Influences.    Macmillan,  N.  Y.,  1904. 


GEOGRAPHIC  CAUSES  37 

when  his  wards  are  restless  and  capable  of  more  erratic 
mischief  than  concentrated  endeavor.  The  lashing  of  a  dry 
wind  increases  nervous  instability  and  crime.  The  curve  of 
the  statistics  of  crime  shows  a  regular  alternation  of  rise  and 
fall  corresponding  to  the  change  of  the  seasons,  crimes  against 
the  person  increasing  in  summer  and  crimes  against  property 
in  winter.  Even  suicide,  the  causes  for  which  would  seem 
perhaps  more  peculiarly  personal  than  the  causes  of  any 
other  human  act  or  experience,  fluctuates  regularly  with  cli- 
matic changes.  The  frequency  of  suicide  is  much  less  in 
the  despairing  season  of  winter,  with  its  scarcity  of  work 
and  pinch  of  hunger  and  cold,  than  it  is  in  the  irritating 
and  enervating  heat  of  summer.  And  the  darkness  of  night 
everywhere  gives  to  crime  its  chief  opportunity. 

10.  The  Boutes  Followed  by  Migration,  War,  and  Com- 
merce Have  Been  Marked  Out  by  Geographic  Highways. — 
These  routes  have  been  the  great  distributors  of  human  popu- 
lations, customs,  and  commodities.  The  other  determinant  of 
the  distribution  and  present  location  of  societies  has  been  the 
presence  of  natural  resources.  Furs  lured  the  Russians, 
though  not  a  migratory  people,  around  the  world  through 
trackless  frozen  wastes  of  northern  Canada,  Alaska,  and 
Siberia.  Africa  was  little  visited  by  Europeans  until  the 
supply  of  ivory  drew  them,  and  that  mainly  to  furnish  the 
means  of  playing  the  games  of  chess  and  billiards.  The 
demand  for  billiard  balls  had  much  to  do  with  the  addi- 
tion of  Africa  to  the  practically  known  world.  The  dis- 
covery of  gold  in  Australia  and  California  suddenly 
peopled  those  hitherto  neglected  regions.  These  are  ex- 
ceptionally striking  illustrations  of  the  general  rule  that  nat- 
ural resources,  as  well  as  natural  pathways,  determine  so- 
cial distribution. 

The  Sociological  Importance  of  Greog^raphic  Conditions.— 
The  importance  of  studying  the  geographic  conditions  of 
social  activities  is  due  largely  to  two  considerations :  First, 
they  afford  a  part  of  the  demonstration  that  social  activities 
are'  not  to  be  explained  merely  by  reference  to  subjective 
jnotives  or  to  the  arbitrary  decrees  .of  man's  will,  but  tha.t 


38  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

the  specific  desires  and  volitions  of  men  are  themselves  to  be 
explained  by  reference  to  conditioning  environment,  so  that, 
like  other  realities,  human  activities  belong  to  that  network 
af  cause  and  effect  which  is  the  order  of  nature.  Second, 
'.he  geographic  conditions  afford  a  very  considerable  part 
of  the  general  explanation  of  thft  course  of  social  evolution, 
'especially  in  its  earlier  stages  and  in  the  rise  of  indigenous 
cultures. 

What  great  historic  movement  or  epoch  can  be  accounted 
for  adequately  without  reference  to  geographic  conditions?  If 
for  example,  we  seek  an  explanation  of  the  efflorescence  of 
Greece  in  the  age  of  Pericles,  must  we  not  take  account  of 
the  third,  fifth,  sixth,  eighth  and  ninth  of  the  principles  of 
geographic  causation  above  enumerated?  We  must  observe 
how  the  Ionian  Islands  stretched  out  like  eager  fingers  for 
contact  with  other 'peoples,  how  the  ships  of  Phoenicia,  and 
later  of  Athens,  brought  strange  goods  and  strange  ideas,  till 
there  arose  one  of  those  rare  eras  in  which  the  crust  of  custom 
was  thinned  and  broken,  and  men  instead  of  hating  and  dread- 
ing change  or  innovation  were  eager  to  hear  "some  new 
thing" ;  how  the  commerce  resulting  from  the  peninsular  and 
insular  position  did  away  with  agrarian  monopoly  of  place 
and  power  and  aided  in  establishing  an  oligarchy  of  the  well- 
to-do  which  though  more  or  less  allied  with  ancient  rank, 
and  more  or  less  perpetuating  its  form  by  a  fiction  of  identity 
between  the  rich  and  the  well-born  was  nevertheless  a  type 
of  democracy,  and  how  the  mythology,  the  esthetic  tastes, 
and  the  inspiration  of  Greek  life  had  all  a  geographic  back- 
ground. 

A  knowledge  of  the  influence  of  geographic  environment 
on  social  activities  has  a  bearing  not  only  upon  the  explana- 
tion of  present  situations  and  historic  movements,  but  also 
upon  the  judgment  of  proposed  plans  for  the  future.  Such 
knowledge  is  suggestive  of  lines  of  profitable  enterprise  in 
opening  canals,  dredging  harbors,  and  otherwise  providing 
conditions  similar  to  those  which  nature  has  in  places  be- 
stowed. And  this  knowledge  has  special  application  to  projects 
of  migration  and  colonization. 


GEOGRAPHIC  CAUSES  39 

Limitations  on  the  Importance  of  Geographic  Conditions. — 
Three  considerations,  however,  set  limits  to  the  importance 
of  geographic  conditions  of  social  phenomena : 

i.  This  is,  after  all,  only  one  out  of  four  sets  of  deter- 
mining conditions.  The  geographic  conditions  set  negative 
limits  to  the  possible  forms  of  social  activity  and  play  an 
important  part  in  positively  occasioning  their  rise  and  charac- 
ter, yet  they  no  more  suffice  for  their  complete  explanation 
than  one  substance,  which  the  chemist  mixes  with  others  in  a 
retort  to  secure  a  complex  reaction,  explains  the  total  effect. 

Various  writers  have  been  disposed  to  seize  upon  some 
one  factor  in  sociological  explanation  and  to  treat  it  as  if  by 
itself  it  afforded  complete  solution.  Thus  some,  of  whom 
Buckle  is  the  most  famous,  have  exaggerated  the  relative 
importance  of  geographic  conditions.  Buckle  writes  as  if  he 
came  near  to  thinking  that  they  afford  the  complete  explana- 
tion of  the  life  of  societies.  Others,  of  whom  Karl  Marx  is 
the  most  famous,  teach  that  the  economic  activities  by  which 
people  get  a  living  determine  their  moral  standards,  their 
forms  of  government,  their  scientific  progress,  and  their  entire 
life.  Tarde  would  find  well  nigh  the  whole  explanation  in 
social  relations,  especially  in  imitation.  An  activity  becomes 
a  social  phenomenon,  he  says,  when  it  has  spread  by  means 
of  imitation  till  many  participate  in  it.  Spreading  waves  of 
imitation  meet  and  modify  each  other,  and  combine  into  cus- 
toms and  institutions,  and  to  understand  how  they  do  so  is, 
according  to  him,  to  comprehend  the  life  and  development 
of  society.  De  Greef  finds  the  essential  social  reality,  and 
the  chief  factor  in  sociological  explanation  in  the  motives 
which  associates  furnish  each  other,  by  which  their  associa- 
tion becomes  a  sort  of  exchange,  or  implicit  contractualism. 
Giddings  bases  his  explanations-  primarily  upon  the  fact  of 
social  and  psychophysical  similarities,  which  lead  certain 
groups  to  similarity  of  response  to  stimulus,  "consciousness  of 
kind,"  and  sympathetic  and  practical  likemindedness.  Simmel 
finds  the  universal  social  reality  and  the  essential  clue  to  ex- 
planation in  the  fact  of  leadership  and  of  superiority  and 
subordination.  Ross  gives  chief  emphasis  not  to  the  leader- 


40  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

ship  of  the  dominant  individual,  but  to  the  molding  of  indi- 
viduals by  the  gradually  developed  activities  of  the  mass. 
Ward  finds  the  "social  forces"  in  the  inborn  traits  of  human 
nature.  Gumplowicz  shows  how  largely  social  organization 
results  from  the  conflicts  between  groups.  Such  writers  are 
correct  in  emphasizing  the  factors  in  explanation  to  which 
they  have  given  particular  study,  but  wrong  in  so  far  as 
they  slight  other  tfuths,  and  these  examples  show  the  com- 
plexity of  complete  sociological  explanation  which  must  in- 
clude them  all.  Though  Greece  has  kept  her  geography  she 
has  lost  her  Periclean  grandeur;  for  geographic  causes  are 
far  from  being  the  only  ones  that  affect  society. 

2.  It  is  in  the  earlier  stages  of  evolution  that  geographic 
conditions   are   most   dominant,   and   after   the   conquest   of 
nature  has  been  carried  far,  especially  when  transportation, 
intercommunication,   and  migration  have  played   their  part, 
activities  are  practiced  in  regions  where  for  geographic  reasons 
they  would  never  have  originated,  as  the  plants  that  fill  our 
fields  and  gardens  are  carried  and  fostered   far  from  their 
natural  habitats.    Thus  the  relative  importance  of  geographic 
causes  diminishes  as  civilization  advances,  while  the  technic 
and  social  factors  steadily  increase  in  importance.     Modifica- 
tions of  this  truth  are  found  in  the  facts:     (i)  that  advanc- 
ing arts  create  new  uses  for  geographic  resources,  for  coal, 
petroleum,  waterfalls  and  harbors;   (2)   that  as  the  relative 
importance  of  geographic  factocs   diminishes  their  absolute 
importance  increases,  because  they  condition  an  ever  richer 
and  more  complex  life  of  society;  and  (3)  that  not  all  the 
consequences   of   man's   dependence   upon   external   physical 
nature  are   felt  until   population  has  passed   "the   point   of 
diminishing  returns,"   later  to  be  explained.     But  the  very 
fact  that  man  has  reached  the  limits  of  nature's  generosity 
-increases  his  dependence  upon  the  productivity  of  the  arts. 

3.  Geographic  conditions  are  laid  down  by  nature,  antf 
there  is  no  practical  problem  for  man  in  determining  what 
they  shall  be,  except  as  he  determines  his  geographic  environ- 
ment by  travel,  migration,  and  colonization.     On  the  other 
Jhajjd  the  remaining  conditions  of  social  life  are  largely  prod- 


GEOGRAPHIC  CAUSES  41 

ucts  of  man's  own  activities.  Indeed  the  social  and  technic 
•  conditions  are  activities  of  man  and  the  direct  result  of  man's 
activities  and,  being  shaped  by  man,  present  to  man  the  prac- 
tical problem  of  so  shaping  them  that  they  will  result  in 
securing  the  prevalence  of  desirable  and  not  of  undesirable 
social  consequences.  The  negative  importance  of  geographic 
conditions  as  setting  limits  to  possible  social  activity  is  in- 
creased by  the  fact  that  they  are  so  little  subject  to  human 
control,  but  their  positive  importance  as  conditions  of  the  ever 
differentiating  and  evolving  activity  of  society  is  greatly  dimin- 
ished by  this  rigidity.  Stupendous  practical  importance  at- 
taches to  the  study  of  those  conditions  of  social  realities 
which  are  not  laid  down  by  nature,  but  are  subject  to  human 
control. 


II.    TECHNIC    CAUSES     THAT     AFFECT    THE 
LIFE    OF   SOCIETY 

CHAPTER   IV 
RURAL  CONDITIONS 

We  now  pass  to  the  second  class  of  conditions  affecting 
society,  namely,  the  technic.  It  was  stated  in  the  introduc- 
tion that  the  two  main  forms  of  technic  conditions  are :  ( i )  the 
numbers  and  spatial  distribution  of  population,  and  (2)  the 
amount,  forms,  and  distribution  of  wealth. 

The  effects  of  the  numbers  and  distribution  of  population 
have  not  yet  been  adequately  studied  by  sociologists.  How- 
ever a  few  points  are  reasonably  clear. 

Formation  of  Population. — The  lowest  savages  live  in  small 
huddles  or  hordes.  Those  bands  cannot  attain  great  numbers 
because  they  have  not  the  means  of  obtaining  sufficient  food. 
The  necessity  of  seeking  food  compels  a  band  to  divide  and 
separate  if  it  increases  beyond  the  number  who  can  share 
the  supplies  of  food  that  they  come  upon  in  their  wanderings. 
At  a  later  stage,  when  the  same  people  have  become  expert 
hunters  or  herdsmen  and  so  can  live  in  larger  companies, 
the  groups  tend  to  recombine,  partly  through  the  conquest 
and  absorption  of  weaker  groups  by  stronger  ones,  and  partly 
through  the  sense  of  blood  kinship  uniting  clans  that  have 
separated  from  one  original  stock.  Thus,  separate  bands 
become  unified  more  or  less  closely  by  conquest  into  a  com- 
pound group,  or  by  kinship  into  a  "tribe"  or  "nation"  com- 
posed of  clans.  Two  compound  groups  may  be  united  into  a 
doubly  compound  unit  when  one  conquers  the  other  or  two 
tribes  may  unite  to  repel  a  common  foe.  Thus  several  pastoral 
tribes  of  plainsmen  may  unite  to  repel  the  hunters  from  the 

49 


RURAL  CONDITIONS  43 

mountains,  or  agriculturists  may  forget  their  rivalries  and 
unite  to  repel  the  pastoral  nomads;  or  pastoral  nomads  like 
the  Israelites  or  the  Huns  may  unite  to  conquer  agriculturists. 
The  population  of  every  great  natipn  is  supposed  to  be  thus 
doubly  and  trebly  and  manifoldly  compounded. 

Populations  are  formed  by  three  processes :  ( I )  com- 
pounding, as  just  described;  (2)  natural  increase,  i.e.,  excess 
of  births  over  deaths;  (3)  immigration,  which  differs  from 
compounding  in  that  it  is  not  the  union  of  whole  peoples  but 
the  addition  of  individuals  and  small  parties  to  a  population. 

A  population  area  is  any  inhabited  portion  of  the  earth's 
surface  which  for  some  reason  it  is  convenient  to  treat  as  a 
unit  and  to  describe  with  reference  to  its  population.  Thus, 
we  may  describe  as  a  population  area  any  geographic  region, 
as  a  continent,  a  mountain  valley,  or  a  river  basin.  We  do,  in 
fact,  most  frequently  take  for  description  population  areas  that 
correspond  with  political  boundaries. 

Population  may  increase  in  numbers  too  rapidly. — The 
economic  law  of  diminishing  returns  is  this:  An  area  may 
have  too  few  inhabitants  to  utilize  its  natural  resources,  so  that 
an  increase  of  population,  by  adding  to  the  labor  force,  in- 
creases production  not  merely  enough  to  enable  the  larger  pop- 
ulation to  live  as  well,  but  enough  to  enable  the  increased  pop- 
ulation to  live  even  better  than  the  smaller  one  had  been  able 
to  do.  This,  however,  cannot  continue  indefinitely.  There 
comes  a  time  when  added  inhabitants,  though  they  add  to  the 
labor  force,  and  to  some  degree  increase  the  amounts  of  prod- 
ucts, yet  cannot  wrest  from  the  resources  of  the  area  owned 
enough  to  increase  the  amount  of  goods  produced  to  such  a 
point  that  when  divided  among  the  increased  population  each 
will  have  as  large  a  share  as  was  upon  the  average  enjoyed  by 
each  of  those  who  inhabited  the  same  area  before  the  last 
increment  of  population  was  received.  The  point  at  which 
that  increment  of  population  was  received  was  the  point  of 
diminishing  returns  for  the  given  area.  If  the  population  is 
to  increase  further,  without  falling  off  in  its  standard  of  living, 
it  must  either  take  up  more  land,  or  else  adopt  new  methods  of 
productkm. 


44  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

It  has  this  alternative,  for  not  only  does  a  given  area 
have  a  point  of  diminishing  returns,  but  so  also  does  a 
given  stage  of  industrial  progress.  A  population  of  hunt- 
ers may  reach  the  point,  of  diminishing  returns  at  one  indi- 
vidual to  the  square  mile,  where  agriculturists  may  live  as 
well  at  ten  to  the  square  mile  or  a  people  with  diversified 
trades  at  twenty  to  one  square  mile;  and  the  introduction  of 
a  new  piece  of  agricultural  or  manufacturing  machinery 
may  still  further  push  forward  the  point  of  diminishing 
returns.  Therefore  the  point  of  .diminishing  returns,  that 
is,  the  point  at  which  further  increase  of  population  means 
a  lowered  standard  of  living,  may  be  postponed  either 
(i)  by  taking  up  new  land  or  discovering  new  resources 
within  the  land  already  occupied,  or  (2)  by  using 
more  or  better  capital,  such  as  improved  tools,  ma- 
chinery, and  livestock,  or  improved  methods  of  produc- 
tion. 

For  an  increasing  population  to  maintain  its  standard  of 
living  unimpaired  means  not  only  that  each  shall  have  as  much 
to  eat  as  formerly,  but  also  that  houses  shall  be  as  sanitary, 
spacious,  and  dignified,  fittings  as  convenient  and  beautiful, 
the  sick  as  well  cared  for,  the  aged  as  comfortable,  books  and 
music  and  travel  as  fully  enjoyed,  and  sons  and  daughters  as 
well  educated. 

A  given  territory  at  a  given  stage  of  industrial  progress 
can  maintain  at  a  given  level  a  given  number  of  people.  Its 
population  may  be  less  than  the  number  who  could  be  thus 
maintained,  but  when  that  number  has  been  reached  then 
further  increase  of  population  must  be  accompanied  by  a  pro- 
portional increase  of  skill  in  producing,  or  of  wisdom  in  con- 
suming economic  goods,  or  else  by  a  decline  in  the  popular 
standard  of  living.  A  few  rich  may  go  on  living  more  and 
more  expensively,  but  the  living  of  the  ordinary  family  must 
decline. 

The  wise  ambition  for  a  people  is  to  maintain  its  life  at  a 
higher  physical  and  psychic  level  rather  than  to  increase  the 
number  of  its  members  at  the  expense  of  degrading  their  life 
below  an  accepted  standard.  The  fact  that  a  people  increases 


RURAL  CONDITIONS  45 

but  slowly  in  numbers  may  be  an  evidence  not  of  degeneracy 
but  of  enlightenment  and  prudence.1 

Since  the  recent  great  improvement  and  cheapening  of 
means  of  transportation,  and  the  opening  to  Europeans  of  the 
great  areas  of  North  and  South  America  and  Africa,  emigra- 
tion has  offered  a  way  of  escape  from  the  law  of  diminishing 
returns,  but  this  way  of  escape  cannot  remain  open  forever. 

It  must  not  be  thought  that  when  population  increases  be- 
yond the  point  of  diminishing  returns  agriculturalists  are  the 
only  ones  affected.  When  multiplication  of  the  agricultural 
population  has  carried  it  far  past  the  point  of  diminishing 
returns  it  ceases  to  buy  enough  manufactured  goods  to  profit- 
ably employ  similarly  increasing  numbers  engaged  in  non- 
agricultural  pursuits.  Practically  all  other  industries  must  use 
at  least  a  little  land.  They  must  use  increasing  amounts  of 
land  if  they  are  to  employ  increasing  numbers  of  laborers  with 
undiminished  productivity,  and  the  cost  of  this  land  is  in- 
creased by  population  pressure.  All  manufacture  depends 
upon  extractive  industry  for  the  quantity  and  price  of  its  raw 
materials.  And  all  classes  must  be  fed  from  the  land,  and 
scarcity  of  the  agricultural  products  relative  to  the  number 
of  mouths  to  be  fed,  results  in  scanty  (or  costly)  rations,  not 
only  for  farmers,  but  for  all.  For  such  reasons,  the  law  of 
diminishing  returns  affects  all  branches  of  productive  in- 
dustry. 

This  law,  coupled  with  the  tendency  of  population  to  in- 
crease by  reproduction  "beyond  any  assignable  limits"  has 
given  ground  for  baleful  prophecies  of  inevitable  progressive 
degradation  for  man.  The  point  of  diminishing  returns  can- 
not be  indefinitely  pushed  forward,  either  by  emigration  or  by 

1  Professor  Alfred  Marshall  in  his  "Principles  of  Economics," 
Macmillan,  1898  (Fifth  ed. :  Vol.  I,  page  182),  says:  "There  are  many 
parts  of  Europe  even  now  in  which  custom,  exercising  the  force  of 
law,  prevents  more  than  one  son  in  each  family  from  marrying;  he  is 
generally  the  oldest,  but  in  some. places,  the  youngest;  if  any  other  son 
marries  he  must  leave  the  village.  When  great  material  prosperity 
and  the  absence  of  all  extreme  poverty  are  found  in  old-fashioned 
corners  of  the  Old  World,  the  explanation  generally  lies  in  some  such 
custom  as  this  with  all  its  evils  and  hardships." 


46  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

progress  in  the  arts.  To  the  most  favored  spot  must  come  a 
time  when  the  only  remaining  way  of  escape  from  progressive 
poverty  and  degradation  will  be  the  limitation  of  the  natural 
increase  of  population. 

It  used  to  be  believed  that  the  power  of  the  reproductive 
instinct  was  such  that  any  discovery  of  new  lands,  or  any 
improvement  in  the  arts  of  production  would  simply  lead  to 
an  increased  birth  rate,  so  that  the  only  progress  possible 
would  be  an  increase  of  numbers,  and  that  although  a  few,  by 
taking  more  than  their  share,  might  live  in  luxury,  the  masses 
could  by  no  means  be  raised  above  the  level  of  mere  subsist- 
ence. If  we  take  the  reproductive  instinct  and  the  law  of 
diminishing  returns  as  the  only  factors  it  is  impossible  to 
escape  from  this  conclusion.  This  conclusion  is  mainly  re- 
sponsible for  the  name  which  Carlyle  and  many  since  have 
given  to  political  economy — "the  dismal  science."  But  these 
two  are  not  the  only  factors.  The  standard  of  living  is  a  third 
factor.  A  standard  of  living  is  a  set  of  desires  strong  enough 
to  induce  men  to  postpone  or  forego  marriage,  or  to  limit  the 
number  of  children  after  marriage.  It  induces  men  before 
they  marry  to  spend  a  considerable  part  of  their  most  fertile 
years  in  prolonged  training  and  competitive  struggle  in  order 
to  attain  a  degree  of  economic  independence  that  will  enable 
them  to  maintain  a  family  in  comfort  and  culture.1  The  beasts 
have  no  standard  of  living.  It  is  a  social  product.  It  is  a  psy- 
chic reality.  But  it  is  strong  enough  to  override  imperious 
instinct.  If  we  study  only  the  effects  of  material  conditions — 
geographic,  technic,  and  psychophysical — upon  social  life,  we 
shall  be  led,  unless  we  blink  the  implications  of  the  facts,  to  a 
pessimistic  conclusion.  It  is  only  when  we  study  also  the  con- 
trol that  may  be  exercised  by  elements  of  the  fourth  class — 
the  psychic — that  we  have  reasonable  ground  for  hopeful  cour- 
age. It  is  a  part  of  the  business  of  general  sociology,  as  sup- 

1  If  M  and  all  his  descendants  marry  at  22,  while  N  and  all  his 
descendants  marry  at  33,  in  300  years  the  proportion  of  Mature  M's  to 
N's  will  be  as  26  to  I,  according  to  the  calculation  of  Francis  Galton 
in  Hereditary  Genius,  Appleton,  1871,  pages  353-356;  referred  to  by 
A.  G.  Keller:  Societal  Evolution.  Macmillan,  1915,  page  185. 


RURAL  CONDITIONS  47 

plemental  (or  fundamental)  to  the  special  social  sciences,  to 
bring  all  the  elements  in  the  social  situation  into  one  perspec- 
tive. Prevalent  ambitions,  personal  ideals,  and  standards  of 
social  morality  are  as  real  determinants  of  social  phenomena 
as  the  limitations  of  natural  resources  or  the  physiological 
instincts. 

Agrarian  Aristocracy  and  Population  Pressure. — The  agri- 
cultural sections  of  America  have  in  general  by  no  means 
reached  that  balance  between  population  and  resources  which 
tends  ultimately  to  establish  itself.  They  are  in  a  period  of 
transition.  The  coming  changes  will  offer  opportunity  for 
great  improvements,  but  they  will  bring  with  them  on&  great 
danger,  namely,  that  of  too  rigid  social  stratification. 

At  first  sight  such  stratification  seems  inevitable.  Omitting 
qualifications,  this  tendency  may  be  thus  stated :  When  land 
becomes  worth  hundreds  of  dollars  per  acre,  as  it  already  has 
in  certain  sections,  the  landless  youth  can  seldom,  if  ever,  suc- 
ceed in  buying  a  farm,  and  if  he  remains  in  the  country,  must 
be  a  tenant  or  a  hired  laborer.  On  the  other  hand  those  who 
own  land  will  be  in  a  position  to  buy  more.1  Thus  the  owner- 
ship of  land  may  be  expected  to  concentrate  and  the  number 
of  landless  dwellers  in  the  country  to  increase.  This  tendency 
will  be  strongest  where  land  is  most  productive  and  most  val- 
uable, and  therefore  hardest  for  the  landless  to  purchase, 
and  at  the  same  time  requiring  the  employment  of  a  large  num- 
ber of  hands  to  tend  its  heavy  crops.  The  application  of 
scientific  methods  to  agriculture  which  will  be  necessary  to 
make  the  best  lands  pay  a  return  for  their  cost  requires  cap- 
ital, and  this  will  put  an  additional  obstacle  in  the  way  of  the 
landless  youth  and  add  to  the  tendency  created  by  the  high 
cost  of  the  land  to  develop  a  small  body  of  wealthy  agrarian 

1  The  tendency  is  at  present  increased  by  the  purchase  of  lands  by 
city  investors.  Agricultural  land  is  an  attractive  investment  where  the 
rent  equals  the  interest  on  bonds  plus  a  margin  sufficient  to  pay  for  the 
supervision  necessary  to  secure  the  occupancy  and  cultivation  of  the 
land.  It  is  especially  attractive  investment  even  at  a  lower  rental  than 
this  so  long  as  there  is  a  rapid  rise,  in  value  incident  to  population 
growth.  The  farm  land  of  central  Illinois  has  fully  doubled  in  value 
during  the  decade  1900-1910. 


48  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

aristocrats  with  a  large  body  of  tenants  or  paid  farm  laborers. 

There  are,  however,  three  counteracting  tendencies  re- 
ferred to  above  as  omitted  qualifications.  First,  the  more  in- 
tensive the  agriculture,  the  smaller  the  number  of  acres  which 
the  landless  youth  must  buy  in  order  to  become  independent 
and  to  support  a  family.  The  increased  price  of  good  land  and 
the  demand  for  fine  fruits,  vegetables,  and  meats  may  be  ex- 
pected to  force  a  more  intensive  cultivation,  which  makes 
fewer  acres  suffice  for  the  maintenance  of  a  household.  So 
long  as  wasteful,  extensive  modes  of  cultivation  prevail  the 
growth  of  cities  clamoring  for  food  and  raw  materials  power- 
fully fends  to  increase  both  "the  cost  of  living"  and  the  monop- 
oly of  land.  But  intensive  agriculture  tends  both  to  reduce 
the  cost  of  living  and  to  combat  monopoly  of  land.  It  is  true 
that  intensive  agriculture  by  increasing  the  productivity  of 
land  tends  to  increase  its  price.  But  in  intensive  agriculture 
the  proportional  part  played  by  labor  is  greater  and  the  pro- 
portional part  played  by  land  is  less,  so  that  land  values  do  not 
increase  as  rapidly  as  does  product,  and  there  is  a  gain  in 
position  to  those  who  contribute  the  labor  required  for  pro- 
duction.1 

Whether  the  rural  population  is  made  up  of  independent 
farmers  or  of  tenants  and  hired  laborers,  increase  in  the  num- 
ber of  those  who  can  dwell  in  the  country  and  maintain  a  high 
standard  of  living  there,  is  dependent  flpon  the  increase  of 
manufacturing  cities,  either  of  the  same  nation  or  abroad,  to 

1  Suppose  land  worth  $200.00  per  acre  now  rents  at  $8.00  per  acre 
and  with  the  expenditure  of  $6.00  worth  of  labor  and  $4.50  for  ma- 
chinery, teams  and  seed,  yields  on  the  average  $18.00  per  acre. 

If  by  trebling  the  labor  and  doubling  the  other  costs  of  produc- 
tion the  yield  per  acre  should  be  doubled  the  result  would  be: 

Land  value     Crop          Rent          Capital       Labor 

Extensive $200  18  $8.00  $4.50  $6.00 

Intensive    225  36  9.00  9.00  18.00 

If  this  could  be  realized,  labor  could  have  more  money  and  only  about 
half  as  much  land  need  be  bought,  the  price  per  acre  being  but  12^2 
per  cent,  greater  than  now.  Besides,  the  greater  amount  of  labor  means 
greater  cost  of  superintendence  to  a  landlord  and  consequent  further 
reduction  of  the  tendency  to  concentration. 


RURAL  CONDITIONS  49 

absorb  their  product  of  food  and  raw  materials.  Thus  the 
high  rate  of  urban  increase  is  favorable  to  intensive  agricul- 
ture, and  to  the  increase  of  rural  population  in  numbers  and 
prosperity. 

A  second  and  more  important  qualification  of  the  tendency 
to  form  an  agrarian  aristocracy  and  proletariat  is  found  in  the 
absence  of  laws  of  primogeniture  and  the  wish  of  parents,  as 
testators,  to  divide  their  holdings  among  their  children. 

A  third  counteracting  tendency  is  in  the  fact  that  in  the 
long  run  farming  land  is  worth  more  to  the  man  who  cultivates 
it  than  to  anyone  else,  because  it  gives  him  a  steady  job,  inde- 
pendent of  the  will  of  any  employer.  The  price  of  farming 
land  contains  at  least  three  elements:  first,  a  sum  which  if 
invested  at  interest  would  yield  annually  an  amount  equal  to 
the  rental  of  the  land;  second,  a  price  paid  for  the  expected 
unearned  increment;  third,  a  sum  paid  by  the  purchaser  for 
the  opportunity  of  independent  self-employment.  In  time  the 
second  element  will  dwindle,  for  there  will  no  longer  be  so 
great  an  expectation  of  unearned  increment,  indeed  that  ex- 
pectation might  be  largely  extinguished  by  taxation,  as  the 
next  paragraph  will  show.  Then,  unless  land  be  valued  as  a 
basis  of  social  prestige,  or  for  some  other  extraneous  consider- 
ation, the  third  element  will  tend  to  become  the  decisive  factor 
in  its  ownership,  for  it  will  raise  the  price  of  the  land  above 
the  capitalized  value  of  its  rental,  and  only  he  who  values  it  as 
an  opportunity  for  independent  self-employment  can  afford  to 
pay  this  third  element  in  the  price  of  land. 

An  artificial  barrier  to  the  concentration  of  land  in  large 
holdings  would  be  the  heavy  taxing  of  unearned  increments. 
The  motive  for  land  purchases  by  the  wealthy  who  do  not 
farm  is  largely  the  hope  of  enjoying  the  unearned  increment 
which  is  resulting  from  population  increase,  improvements  in 
transportation  and  general  progress.  Deeds  might  be  required 
to  state  the  true  price  paid,  and  proof  of  fraud  in  the  state- 
ment of  the  price  might  invalidate  the  deed.  The  purchasers 
would  then  have  two  strong  motives  for  having  the  price  cor- 
rectly recorded,  first,  in  order  to  get  a  valid  title,  and  second, 
because  whenever  in  the  future  the  purchaser  became  a  seller, 


50  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

it  would  be  advantageous  to  him  to  have  had  the  full  price 
recorded,  since  it  would  be  the  only  amount  which  he  could 
receive  untaxed.  On  the  other  hand,  he  would  not  overstate 
the  price  lest  he  invalidate  his  title,' and  the  seller  would  not 
allow  it  to  be  overstated,  if  there  had  been  an  increment  since 
the  previous  transfer,  because  the  seller  is  taxed  on  that  incre- 
ment. If  the  actual  price  at  successive  sales  were  recorded 
the  unearned  increment  could  readily  be  taxed. 

To  cheapen  land  by  taxing  the  unearned  increment,  and 
rendering  it  unattractive  to  speculators  would  tend  to  make 
it  more  valuable  to  the  man  who  would  labor  on  it  than  to 
anyone  else,  and  so  to  distribute  it  among  independent 
farmers  in  holdings  no  larger  than  they  could  properly  cul- 
tivate. 

Density  and  Communication. — Density  as  directly  affecting 
social  life  is  practically  equivalent  to  facility  of  transportation 
and  communication.  An  improvement  in  the  character  of 
roads  and  means  of  transportation  and  communication  may 
improve  society  as  much  and  in  much  the  same  way  as  would 
doubling  the  number  of  inhabitants  without  such  mechanical 
improvements.  If  railroads  are  the  arteries  of  society,  high- 
ways are  the  capillaries,  and  unless  the  capillary  circulation  is 
good  both  business  and  social  life  may  be  expected  to  languish. 
Trolley,  telephone,  rural  free  delivery  of  mail,  the  parcels  post, 
the  automobile,  the  school  omnibus,  horses,  the  bicycle,  and, 
above  all,  because  essential  to  the  effectiveness  of  most  of  the 
others,  good  roads  are  a  technic  equipment  which  can  go  far  to 
redeem  rural  solitude  and  render  it  feasible  to  maintain  such 
a  social  life  as  to  make  the  country  the  home,  by  choice  and 
not  by  hard  necessity,  of  a  due  proportion  of  those  who  are 
well-to-do  and  competent.  At  the  same  time  the  density  of  the 
city,  in  so  far  as  it  brings  with  it  social  as  distinguished  from 
bodily  effects,  is  a  technic  condition  created  in  part  by  great 
numbers  in  small  area,  and  in  part  by  excellent  streets,  rapid 
street  transportation,  telephones,  and  the  railroad  and  tele- 
graph, which  makes  the  city  a  throbbing  ganglion  of  world 
life.  From  this  it  follows  that  degrees  of  density  cannot  be 
/  properly  defined  by  reference  to  the  number  of  inhabitants 


RURAL  CONDITIONS  51 

alone.  We  may  roughly  distinguish  several  degrees  of  num- 
ber and  density,  and  may  observe  that  each  has  its  own  social 
effects,  and  calls  for  appropriate  adjustments. 

1.  Rural  Solitude. — Most  people  would  say  that  rural  soli- 
tude exists  wherever  the  country  is  a  degree  more  lonesome 
than  they  are  accustomed  to.     In  fact,  the  condition  which  I 
propose  to  designate  as  rural  solitude  exists  not  only  in  the  vast 
areas  of  the  far  western  United  States,  but  also  in  a  large  part 
of  the  Middle  West,  and  is  not  unknown  in  New  England. 
Most  of  our  richest  prairie  soil  is  now  yielding  far  less  per 
acre  than  some  of  our  comparatively  poor  land,  because  the 
prairie  is  devoted  to  crops  that  are  adapted  to  an  extensive 
mode  of  cultivation,  that  is,  one  requiring  the  expenditure  of 
but  little  labor  per  acre.     Two  men  spending  all  their  labor 
on  eighty  acres  of  prairie  soil  might  make  it  yield  more  than 
is  now  secured  on  the  average  from  one  hundred  and  sixty 
acres.    The  effects  of  rural  solitude  are  mainly  negative.    The 
ministrations  of  nature  may  be  glorious,  but  those  of  man  are 
comparatively  lacking.     With   reference  to  density,  it  is  a 
state  of  lack  and  disadvantage. 

2.  Rural  Community. — The  line  between   rural  solitude 
and  what  we  will  call  "rural  community"  is  passed  when  it 
becomes  possible  to  maintain  a  satisfactory  standard  of  school, 
church,  and  neighborhood  life.    The  transition  from  the  first 
to  the  second  degree  of  density  usually  depends  on  increasing 
the  number  of  inhabitants,  preferably  at  the  same  time  dimin- 
ishing the  size  of  land  holdings,  but  it  may  be  greatly  hastened 
by  improving  the  roads  and  means  of  communication,  or  both. 

3.  Hamlet. — The  hamlet  can  be  better  described  than  de- 
fined and  is  too  familiar  to  require  detailed  description.     It 
often  forfeits  many  of  the  advantages  of  the  open  country 
without  securing  those  of  the  village  or  city,  being  a  spot 
where  man  has  deposited  upon  the  landscape  an  accumulation 
of  ugliness,  the  rival  of  the  city  slum. 

It  is  a  merciful  provision  of  nature  that  we  can  get  used 
to  almost  anything,  but  it  is  an  anesthetic.  Not  in  the  hamlet 
only,  but  in  societies  of  every  sort,  we  become  chloroformed 
to  familiar  evils.  The  dreadful  hideousness  of  many  a  hamlet, 


52  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

bearable  only  because  human  beings  can  get  used  to  almost 
anything,  could  be  redeemed  by  a  well  kept  highway,  well 
kept  dooryards,  paint  or  vines  over  houses  and  out-houses,  and 
properly  placed  shrubbery  and  flowers.  Trees  come  more 
slowly  but  are  a  glory  to  hamlet  and  village. 

The  hamlet  may  not  only  surpass  the  city  slum  in  ugliness ; 
it  may  also  rival  it  in  its  insanitary  condition,  due  largely 
to  shallow  wells,1  open  vaults,  lack  of  proper  refuse  disposal 
and  swarming  flies  that  breed  in  offal  and  then  enter  the 
houses  laden  with  germs — conditions  which  modern  and  inex- 
pensive scientific  devices  have  made  unnecessary  even  for 
the  country.  It  may  rival  the  slum  also  in  tendencies  to 
vice,  drunkenness,  and  demoralizing  as  well  as  petty  pleasures, 
because  of  lack  of  the  dignity  and  elevation  that  go  with 
beauty  and  fitness  of  surroundings,  and  dearth  of  elevating 
pleasures,  a  dearth  often  most  pitiful  and  degrading,  which 
may  readily  be  removed  by  the  traveling  or  local  library  arid 
the  periodical  press,  the  literary  circle,  debating  club,  musical 
society,  association  for  scientific  farming,  arts  and  crafts 
guild,  and  reconstructed  school  and  church. 

If  community  life  throughout  the  countryside  surround- 
ing the  hamlet  were  properly  developed,  then  among  the  res/- 
dents of  the  hamlet  would  normally  be  included  a  teacher 
and  also  a  minister,  each  living  with  his  family  and  each  of 
such  character  and  intelligence  as  could  reasonably  be  ex- 
pected only  on  condition  that  the  income  of  each  fully  equaled 
that  of  a  prosperous  farmer,  including  the  value  of  all  that 
is  consumed  upon  the  farm.  By  their  example  and  leader- 
ship, the  minister,  the  teacher,  and  the  physician,  with  other 
progressive  and  intelligent  citizens,  each  sensible  of  responsi- 
bility for  the  community  life,  could  insure  to  the  rural  com- 
munity and  the  hamlet  a  life  of  beauty,  joy  and  worth,  the 

1  Dug  wells  are  in  general  a  fit  source  of  water  for  human  con- 
sumption only  when  surrounded  by  a  water-tight  curb  high  enough  to 
keep  out  surface  water,  and  continuing  downward  as  a  lining  to  the 
well  for  a  number  of  feet,  so  that  water  which  passes  under  it  from 
the  surface  in  wet  times  will  be  adequately  filtered.  How  many  feet 
this  will  be  depends  on  the  character  of  the  soil  and  the  sources  of 
pollution  to  which  the  soil  is  exposed. 


RURAL  CONDITIONS  53 

description  of  which  would  enrich  our  literature  as  the  living 
of  it  would  enrich  themselves. 

The  fulfillment  of  social  possibilities  in  city  or  country 
depends  upon  the  somewhat  general  realization  that  a  profes- 
sion or  trade  arid  the  influence  it  brings  constitute  a  public 
function.  No  legitimate  calling,  from  the  pastorate  to  manag- 
ing a  moving  picture  show,  or  shoeing  horses,  can  properly 
be  carried  on  merely  as  a  means  of  making  money,  but  rather 
also  as  a  man's  work  in  creating  a  social  situation.  This 
it  is  which  gives  dignity  and  zest  to  work  and  this  is  the 
truest  single  test  of  morality.  There  are  young  men  in 
America  who  are  preparing  to  engage  in  professional  work 
in  rural  as  well  as  in  urban  communities  in  full  consciousness 
of  this  principle  of  social  responsibility  and  opportunity,  the 
ignoring  of  which  is  the  main  reason  for  non-realization  of 
social  possibilities. 

Another  reason  why  teachers,  ministers  and  others  have 
not  more  usually  afforded  the  necessary  social  leadership  is 
that  they  themselves  have  not  been  ripe  representatives  of 
modern  civilization  and  culture,  and  this  is  because  we  have 
not  in  our  country  a  sufficient  number  of  thoroughly  educated 
men,  the  products  of  cultured  homes  and  of  liberal  schooling, 
to  fill  the  positions  for  which  thorough  training  should  be  an 
essential  qualification.  For  this  reason  the  standards  of  edu- 
cational requirements  for  schoolteachers,  which  are  enforced 
in  some  parts  of  the  old  world,  are  as  yet  impracticable  here. 
The  American  school  system  is  exceedingly  admirable  as  an 
organization.  We  have  the  best  elementary-school  textbooks 
in  the  world,  which  is  both  fortunate  and  necessary  in  view 
of  the  limited  preparation  of  many  rural  teachers.  But  the 
supreme  element  in  the  success  of  a  school  system  is  still 
largely  lacking,  namely,  adequate  qualifications  of  the  teachers 
themselves. 

Yet  another  reason  for  the  comparative  poverty  of  life 
in  rural  districts  is  the  subdivision  of  schools  and  churches 
which  occasions  a  lack  of  dignity  and  power  to  inspire  and 
lead  on  the  part  of  these  great  social  institutions.  Where 
people  are  few  the  necessity  of  concentration  is  most  urgent. 


§4  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

In  the  case  of  the  school  this  need  is  being  met  in  many 
places  by  "consolidation."  By  this  plan  numerous  tiny  and 
often  disreputable  schoolhouses  are  replaced  by  one  central 
building  of  good  architecture,  attended  by  pupils  numerous 
enough  to  be  properly  graded  and  classified  and  to  have  zest 
and  interstimulation  in  work  and  in  pfay.  Since  funds  are 
conserved,  instead  of  scattered,  apparatus  and  libraries  can  be 
afforded.  A  few  competent  teachers  replace  a  larger  number 
of  less  competent  ones.  Group  solidarity  and  democracy 
among  the  people  of  all  sections  of  the  region  are  promoted 
by  the  early  friendship  of  the  rising  generation.  Consolidated 
schools  imply  fairly  good  roads,  and  a  bus  and  driver  for  each 
of  the  routes  converging  at  the  school  center.  Since  a  bus 
and  driver  cost  less  than  a  school  and  teacher  the  consolidated 
school  may  cost  less  than  the  numerous  district  schools  which 
it  replaces.  But  the  great  argument  for  the  consolidated 
school  is  not  that  it  requires  less  money,  but  that  it  makes 
people  willing  to  spend  more  money  on  their  schools  and 
secures  better  education. 

Corresponding  advantages  are  to  some  degree  secured  to 
the  church  by  the  movement  for  church  federation,  or  by 
"interdenominational  commissions."  In  several  states  such 
commissions  have  already  shown  that  it  is  possible  to  estab- 
lish comity  by  which  each  important  Protestant  sect  will 
refrain  from  establishing  new  churches,  missions  or  Sunday- 
schools  without  the  approval  of  a  central  council  composed 
of  representatives  from  each  of  the  cooperating  denomina- 
tions, and  by  which  tiny  struggling  congregations  leave  it  to 
the  council  to  decide  which  can  best  survive  in  a  given  com- 
munity and  then  allow  that  one  to  absorb  the  rest  in  a  single 
united  organization.  This  is  possible  where  one  sect  has 
more  members,  and  a  stronger  hold  upon  the  community  than 
the  others,  and  what  a  denomination  yields  in  one  locality 
it  is  likely  to  gain  in  another  where  it  has  strength  to  be 
the  rallying  center.  In  other  cases  a  federated  church  is 
formed,  each  sect  electing  a  clerk  and  treasurer  preserving 
the  continuity  of  its  records  and  forwarding  missionary  and 
benevolent  contributions  to  its  own  denominational  board  but 


RURAL  CONDITIONS  55 

all  acting  as  one  body  in  local  matters.  These  valuable  ex- 
pedients should  be  utilized  until  Protestantism  adopts  a  yet 
more  rational  mode  of  organization. 

All  rural  progress,  like  progress  everywhere,  depends  upon 
awakening  popular  desire  for  the  objects  that  are  of  real 
importance  and  value,  a  desire  strong  enough  to  lead  to  the 
expenditure  of  such  money  as  is  available.  Every  thoroughly 
enlightened  farmer  will  escape  from  that  form  of  insanity 
which  regards  it  as  the  object  of  labor  "to  raise  more  corn, 
to  feed  more  hogs,  to  buy  more  land  to  raise  more  corn,  to 
feed  more  hogs,  and  so  on" — and  will  realize  that  life  is  no 
mere  toilsome  game  with  a  score  reckoned  in  acres  or  dol- 
lars or  hogs  or  corn,  but  that  life  is  conscious  experience, 
that  money  is  only  a  means  to  life,  and  that  life  is  wasted 
if  the  means  are  obtained  but  the  ends  not  reached.  Such 
a  farmer  regards  money  as  something  to  be  obtained  in  order 
that  it  may  be  used  in  maintaining  the  agencies  of  life,  and 
these  for  the  farmer  are  almost  summed  up  in  the  home,  the 
school,  the  church,  supposing  the  home  to  include  all  the 
private  agencies  of  happiness  and  culture,  and  the  church 
and  the  school  to  perform  the  functions  appropriate  to  them. 
Not  money  in  a  stocking  or  in  a  bank,  but  the  home,  the 
school,  the  church,  should  represent  the  goal  of  his  labor. 
THe  parsimoniousness  of  the  farmer  is  not  to  be  blamed  when 
it  is  due  to  unescapable  poverty.  Many  a  farmer  is  over- 
burdened with  rentals  or  mortgages. 

4.  Village. — Any  settlement  which  in  size  is  between  the 
mere  hamlet  of  a  dozen  or  a  score  of  dwellings  and  the  city 
is  popularly  called  a  village.  Between  the  village  that  is 
scarcely  more  than  a  hamlet  and  the  village  that  is  scarcely 
less  than  a  city  there  are  many  gradations  in  numbers  each 
of  which  would  doubtless  be  found  by  adequate  study  to  have 
characteristic  effects  upon  the  life  of  the  group.  In  the 
United  States  many  communities  that  in  numbers  are  as  yet 
no  more  than  villages  are  allowed  to  take  the  name  and 
political  organization  of  a  city. 

A  good  village  improves  with  time.  By  the  time  it  is 
shaded  with  full-grown,  high-arching  trees  that  never  have 


56       •  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

been  "topped"  a  village  should  have  acquired  a  sort  of  ripe 
collective  personality,  rich  in  sentiment.  For  good  or  ill,  the 
character  of  a  village  depends  largely  upon  the  example  and 
activity  of  its  leaders.  Fortunate  is  that  village  in  which 
the  standard  of  ambition,  taste,  sentiment,  and  custom  are 
early  set  by  intelligent  and  highminded  founders  who  leave 
behind  a  heritage  of  tradition  that  molds  the  lives  of  their 
successors  for  many  a  generation  and  causes  the  sons  and 
daughters  of  the  village  to  seek  education  and  careers  of 
service. 

Young  villages  should  plan  for  the  future.  Streets  newly 
laid  out  should  be  wide  enough  to  serve  the  purposes  of  a 
city  if  time  so  determines.  Permanent  trees  should  at  once 
be  set  out  at  such  distances  as  not  to  overcrowd  each  other 
generations  later,  while  between  each  pair  of  permanent  and 
slow-growing  trees,  may  be  set  a  tree  of  rapid  growth,  to  be 
removed  in  time.  The  village  council  should  at  once  see  to 
it  that  grade  lines  are  established,  not  only  for  streets  but 
also  for  building  lots,  with  reference  both  to  beauty  and 
drainage.  And  they  should  prescribe  a  building  line,  requiring 
that  houses  should  be  set  at  a  uniform  distance  from  the 
street,  and  also  for  a  form  of  curved  embankment  or  slope 
(not  an  angular  terrace)  wherever  lots  are  above  the  level 
of  the  street.  A  standard  cornice  line  should  be  established 
for  buildings  on  the  business  street. 

The  architecture  of  the  church  and  other  public  buildings 
of  a  village  and  also  of  the  homes  is  a  matter  of  no  slight 
importance.  It  may  determine  whether  people  of  taste  make 
the  village  a  summering  place  or  permanent  home.  People 
like  this  place  or  that  often  without  knowing  why.  The 
cause  is  frequently  in  that  which  appeals  to  the  eye.  Beauty 
is  a  silent  and  often  unrecognized,  but  potent,  element  in 
the  worth  of  life.  Children  growing  up  and  men  and  women 
tend  insensibly  to  live  up  or  down  to  their  surroundings. 
Beauty  alone  will  seldom  redeem  men  as  it  is  said  to  have 
redeemed  Goethe,  but  it  is  one  agency  of  redemption.  And 
it  is  of  value  not  only  as  a  means  of  moral  uplift,  but  for  its 
own  sake.  Beauty  is  like  cheerful  weather.  The  architect 


RURAL  CONDITIONS  57 

and-  the  artist  do  man's  work  in  the  world  and  deserve  the 
appreciation,  honor,  and  fame  which  are  accorded  them  by  the 
folk-sense  of  old  communities  that  have  long  enjoyed  the 
experience  of  beauty.  When  the  designs  are  once  drawn, 
it  is  no  more  expensive  to  build  in  beautiful  lines  than  in 
ugly  ones.  No  community  should  allow  a  hideous  work  of 
man  to  be  needlessly  thrust  upon  its  gaze,  to  stand  like  an 
affront  to  the  eyes  for  decades  or  generations.  They  would 
not  allow  every  man  who  would  to  establish  a  perpetual  bad 
smell.  Should  they  refuse  to  protect  the  higher  sense  of 
sight?  Every  moderately  large  community  should  employ  the 
services  of  a  consulting  architect  who  need  not  be  a  resident, 
or  of  a  commission  which  would  pass  upon  the  design  for 
every  permanent  building  erected  upon  a  public  thoroughfare. 
Whenever  a  plan  was  refused  reasons  should  be  given  and 
suggestions  for  the  removal  of  unsatisfactory  features  would 
be  in  order.  How  large  a  community  must  be,  before  availing 
itself  of  such  services,  each  village  or  city  must  decide  for 
itself.  It  is  far  easier  to  prevent  ugly,  and  otherwise  objec- 
tionable, architecture  than  to  remove  it  after  it  has  been 
built. 

The  small  population  was  at  a  disadvantage  in  the  earlier 
stages  of  social  evolution  in  that  the  chance  that  progressive 
ideas  would  be  originated  was  less  under  these  conditions 
than  where  many  minds  were  congregated.  This  was  a  seri- 
ous matter  in  the  old  times  of  little  communication  between 
different  communities,  but  that  disadvantage  has  largely  dis- 
appeared in  our  time  of  efficient  communication  through 
travel,  post,  conventions,  and  institutes  for  farmers  and 
teachers  and  clergy,  and,  above  all,  through  the  press.  In  a 
small  village  group  there  is  also  less  stimulation  from  very 
eminent  representatives  of  the  arts  and  professions.  This 
disadvantage  might  be  largely  offset  if  doctors,  lawyers,  teach- 
ers, and  ministers  were  trained  to  feel  the  responsibility  and 
practice  the  arts  of  social  leadership.  Leadership  consists 
largely  in  putting  the  proper  ideas  into  the  minds  of  the  in- 
dividuals 'who  are  in  a  position  to  give  them  effect  and  still 
more  in  supplying  the  necessary  courage.  Most  things  really 


58  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

worth  doing  have  at  first  looked  impracticable  to  the  ave/age 
person.  But  when  there  appears  an  individual  having  not 
only  sufficient  imagination  and  enlightenment  to  see  what 
should  be  done,  but  also  sufficient  courage  to  believe  that 
it  can  be  done,  the  probability  of  the  achievement  has  begun. 
The  question  of  possibility  or  impossibility  with  reference  to 
social  improvements  is  largely  one  of  psychic  attitude  of  the 
people.  The  question  with  respect  to  most  desirable  social 
changes  is  not,  could  people  bring  them  about  if  they  would, 
but  will  they  will  to  do  so  ?  Such  changes  are  thought  impos- 
sible and  for  the  time  being  are  so,  because  men  do  not 
believe  that  their  neighbors  will  do  their  duty.  The  man 
who  first  says,  "I  for  one  will,  and  we  together  can,"  who 
breaks  down  the  hypnotism  of  the  present  reality,  who  ex- 
hibits confidence  in  his  fellows,  who  makes  individuals  begin 
to  think  "my  neighbors  will  do  their  duty  and  therefore  it 
is  worth  while  for  me  to  do  mine,"  thereby  creates  new 
social  possibilities.  A  village  population,  dense  but  small, 
derives  particular  advantages  from  these  two  technic  charac- 
teristics, in  the  comparative  ease  with  which  its  best  mem- 
bers can  influence  the  situation.  One  of  the  attractions  of 
the  small  community  for  the  rightminded  citizen  is  that  he 
may  reasonably  expect  to  make  his  influence  count,  to  be  a 
significant  factor  in  constructive  community  life,  while  he 
could  hardly  hope  to  produce  any.  very  definite  and  recog- 
nizable influence  upon  the  vast  and  complex  situation  pre- 
sented by  a  great  city. 

The  pressure  of  public  opinion  upon  the  individual  is  likely 
to  be  strongest,  other  things  being  equal,  in  a  small,  dense 
community  like  a  village.  Personal  conduct  is  not  easily 
concealed;  the  social  reaction  of  increased  or  diminished  cor- 
diality and  respect  is  powerfully  and  promptly  felt.  For  the 
average  individual  personal  relations  tend  to  constitute  a 
larger  part  of  life's  interest  and  value  than  in  the  city,  and 
these  relations  are  permanent,  and  not  to  be  shaken  off  by 
changing  one's  boarding-place.  This  may  be  carried  to  an 
irksome  excess  and  may  be  an  evil  if  social  standards  are 
low,  but  it  is  a  tremendous  power  and  on  the  whole  a  power 


RURAL  CONDITIONS  59 

for  good,  and  that  increasingly,  provided  social  standards  are 
progressively  wise  and  social  intercourse  instinct  with  sym- 
pathy and  courtesy.  In  the  village  individuality  is  not  ob- 
literated by  a  steam  roller  of  social  pressure.  Quite  the  con- 
trary. This  pressure  is  heavy  upon  indecencies,  improprie- 
ties, and  such  breaches  of  the  group  conscience  code  as  licen- 
tiousness, thriftlessness,  dishonesty,  or  cruelty.  On  the  other 
hand,  interesting  diversification  of  the  social  current  of 
thought,  speech,  and  action  are  encouraged.  It  is  in  country 
or  village  that  we  hear  the  phrases,  "As  Tom  says,"  and  "As 
Aunt  Mary  would  say."  Piquancies  are  appreciated  in  a 
group  where  individuals  are  thoroughly  known  and  furnish 
to  each  other  permanent  sources  of  human  interest.  Local 
reputation  is  easily  achieved  and  small  talents  that  in  the  city 
would  be  lost  to  view  are  called  out  and  often  are  discovered 
to  be  real  accessions  to  the  stock  of  social  wealth. 

Sympathetic  bonds  unite  the  population  of  the  village  far 
more  than  that  of  the  city.  Sympathy,  being  an  emotion, 
depends  on  vividness  of  perception.  Hence  the  poor  and 
unfortunate  of  a  village  can  generally  depend  upon  a  per- 
sonal and  friendly  aid,  while  those  of  a  city  known  to  the 
more  fortunate  indirectly,  by  the  medium  of  print,  may  receive 
only  a  remote  and  general  interest  on  the  part  of  those  able 
to  assist.  Individual  cases  of  suffering  of  every  kind  may 
go  unheard  of  by  any  who  could  render  aid,  and  if  discovered 
it  will  be  by  the  police  or  by  the  professional  agent  of  a 
charitable  organization  who  administers,  it  may  be  wisely  and 
kindly,  the  funds  supplied  by  benefactors  who  never  see  the 
suffering  that  they  alleviate. 


CHAPTER   Y 

THE  CITY1 

Nine  Characteristics  of  the  City. — The  city  when  consid- 
ered sociologically  instead  of  politically  is  seen  as  a  large 
aggregation  of  population  having  a  high  degree  of  density  and 
facility  of  intercommunication.  How  citified  a  group  becomes 
does  not  depend  exclusively  upon  its  numbers.  Many  small 
groups  in  this  country  are  organized  politically  as  cities,  so 
also  there  are  not  a  few  communities  (in  Massachusetts  alone 
there  are  thirty-eight  such  communities),  having  over  eight 
thousand  population,  that  decline  so  to  organize,  that  are  not 
called  cities  and  that  conduct  their  political  affairs  by  "town 
meeting,"  that  is,  by  annual  general  assembly  of  all  legal 
voters  and  by  a  standing  executive  commission  of  "selectmen." 
Following,  in  general,  the  practice  of  the  United  States  census, 
we  may  speak  of  any  incorporated  place  having  2,500  to  4,000 
inhabitants  as  semiurban,  one  with  4,000  to  8,000  as  a  city 
of  the  fourth  class,  one  with  8,000  to  25,000  as  a  city  of 
the  third  class,  one  with  25,000  to  100,000  as  a  city  of  the 
second  class,  and  one  with  100,000  or  more  as  a  city  of  the 
first  class.  Among  the  characteristics  of  urban  groups  the 
following  may  be  mentioned : 

1.  The  city  is  the  home  of  industries  in  which  labor  and 
capital,  and  not  land,  are  the  predominant  factors. 

2.  A  great  many  young  people  who  have  just  completed 
their  schooling  or  have  just  reached  maturity  go  from  country 
and  village  homes  to  seek  employment  in  cities.     Hence  the 
population  of  cities  contains  a  larger  proportion  of  youth  and  of 
persons  in  the  most  vigorous  years  than  do  other  groups.    This 
helps  to  increase  the  atmosphere  of  hope,  enterprise,  pro- 

1  Housing,  city  planning  and  municipal  conveniences  are  treated  on 
p.  87  and  following. 

60 


THE  CITY  61 

gressiveness  and  radicalism,  to  quicken  the  pace  and  intensify 
the  energy  and  the  passion  of  city  life. 

3.  In  these  crowded  groups  there  is  a  comparative  lack 
of  domesticity.     Home  ties  have  been  left  behind  by  many 
of  those  who  go  to  live  in  cities,  and  new  ones  are  not  so 
likely  to  be  formed  as  among  those  who  move  into  villages 
or  rural  communities.     Multitudes  live  in  boarding-houses, 
at  clubs,  or  at  hotels.    Space,  indoors  and  out,  immunity  from 
contaminating  influences  and  opportunity  for  developing  home 
occupations  are  not  easily  provided  for  children.    Agriculture 
makes  the  home  its  center.     The  men  are  too  few  and  scat- 
tered to  make  boarding-houses  profitable,  and  there  is  little 
opportunity   for   women   to   find   employment   except   about 
homes.     In  the  city,  women  as  well  as  men  can  readily  find 
other  work  and  betake  themselves  to  boarding-house  existence. 
And  even  girls  living  with  their  parents  do  not  find  their 
interests  centering  so  predominantly  in  home  activities,  but 
all  the  members  of  the  household  may  scatter  after  break- 
fast to  work  with  other  groups  in  quarters  of  the  city  remote 
from  each  other. 

Neither  are  the  homes  so  predominant  as  in  country  or 
village  as  the  centers  of  life's  pleasures  and  values.  The 
theater,  the  park,  the  gay  and  brilliant  street,  the  saloon,  the 
club,  contend  with  the  homes  of  the  people  for  their  money 
and  affections.  And  it  is  harder  and  more  costly  to  make 
the  home  a  place  of  individuality  and  beauty  when  it  is  a 
set  of  pigeon-holes  in  an  apartment  house,  than  when  it  has 
its  own  trees  and  flowers  and  yard  and  is  uninvaded  by  the 
dirt  and  noise,  not  to  say  the  smells,  of  the  crowded  city. 
The  city-dweller  moves  from  one  tenement  to  another  while 
the  farm-dweller  strikes  deep  roots  in  a  homestead. 

4.  In  the   city  .the  artificial   predominates   over  nature. 
The  brooks  are  in  the  sewers ;  the  forests  are  felled ;  the  only 
trees  were  set  out  by  hand  of  man ;  many  a  boy  never  had  a 
stick  that   had   not   been   through   a   saw-mill;   the   factory 
laborer  is  mostly  engaged  in  making  artificial  products  more 
artificial  still,  and  he  works  not  with  nature  but  with  a  great 
building  full  of  machinery  and  an  army  of  his  fellowmen. 


62  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

Man  tends  to  feel  himself  a  match  for  nature;  only  sick- 
ness, death,  and  the  weather  defy  his  powers.  The  multi- 
tude of  men  seems  the  mightiest  agency  within  his  observa- 
tion, and  the  crowd  tends  to  become  his  god. 

5.  The  city  is  a  place  of  tremendous  stimulation.    Sights, 
sounds  and  the  activities  of  thousands  bombard  the  senses  and 
the  mind.    No  other  class  of  realities  is  so  stimulating  to  man 
as  the  activities  of  his  fellowmen.     The  city  street  with  its 
show  windows  and  its  throngs  is  a  perpetual  world's  fair. 

6.  The  city  is  a  place  of  extremes  and  of  the  most  glaring 
contrasts  in  human  life.    Here  are  the  heaped  Andes  of  pluto- 
cratic fortune,  and  here  are  the  morasses  of  sodden  poverty; 
here  are  the  men  of  genius,  great  preachers,  great  lawyers, 
great  scientists,  great  artists,  great  musicians,  great  captains 
of  industry;  and  here  are  the  incompetent  who  need  a  boss 
over  them  if  they  are  to  work  and  who  can  hardly  hold  a 
job;  here  are  prophets  and  leaders  of  philanthropy,  benevo- 
lence and  reform,  and  here  are  the  professionals  of  crime.    It  is 
often  said  that  the  brightest  and  best  trained  youths  go  to 
the  city.     It  is  equally  true  that  the  incompetent  who  cannot 
work  except  under  a  boss,  the  degenerate  and  depraved,  and 
those  who  are  ashamed  before  their  neighbors,  go  to  the  city. 
The  city  seems  to  draw  all  extremes,  the  freaks  and  sports  of 
nature,  and  it  is  the  typical  who  are  the  breeding  strength  of 
a  race. 

From  the  overstimulation  and  the  extremes  of  city  life 
there  follows  a  tendency,  but  not  a  necessity,  for  the  common 
individual  to  live  on  the  surface  of  his  mind,  distracted  first 
by  one  stimulation  and  then  by  another,  never  reflecting  deeply 
upon  anything,  and  being  far  less  intelligent  for  all  his  knowl- 
edge of  the  latest  song,  the  latest  style,  and  the  latest  news- 
paper sensation,  than  the  better  type  of  villager  or  farmer. 
From  the  same  causes  there  follows  a  second  closely  related 
tendency  for  the  common  person  to  be  overwhelmed  by  the 
massiveness  of  his  social  environment  so  that  he  never  acquires 
a  well  developed  personality  of  his  own,  being  unable  to  assert 
himself  against  the  pressure  of  that  mass  of  influence  and 
example  by  which  he  is  surrounded. 


THE  CITY  63 

These  two  tendencies,  reen  forced  and  played  upon  by  the 
tremendous  facility  of  superficial  communication  with  great 
numbers  of  persons,  operate  toward  giving  to  urban  popula- 
tion a  degree  of  "mobmindedness."  Surface  notions,  catch- 
words and  passing  sentiments  easily  spread;  each  knows  that 
thousands  of  others  are  reading  the  same  headlines  and  moved 
by  the  same  ideas  and  emotions.  To-morrow  or  next  week 
this  sensation  will  have  been  replaced  by  another.  The  mob 
is  fickle,  now  generous,  now  mean,  now  audacious,  now  pan- 
icky, to-day  overpraising  and  to-morrow  stoning  with  epi- 
thets the  same  man  or  measure.  On  the  other  hand  the 
diversities  and  contrasts  of  economic  station  and  interest  of 
religion,  race,  and  even  of  language  tend  to  stem  this  tide 
of  mob  influence. 

Furthermore,  the  extremes  and  glaring  contrasts  of  the 
city  make  the  difference  between  good  and  evil  impressive  to 
the  discerning  mind  while  the  shamelessness  of  evil  ensnares 
many.  To  be  sure,  familiarity  with  evil  may  obscure  its 
character  to  the  careless  and  youthful,  and  where  the  Devil 
walks  at  large  with  his  hoofs  and  horns  concealed,  as  far  as 
he  can  conceal  them,  he  captures  many ;  yet  sturdy  souls  are 
brought  to  clear  moral  choices.  Again  the  extremes  in  every 
direction  of  human  achievement  enable  the  gifted  and  aspir- 
ing to  find  models,  aids,  opportunities,  and  stimulating  ex- 
ample and  fellowship.  Thus  in  the  city  the  rare  man  is  likely 
to  come  to  the  completest  fulfillment  of  his  possibilities.  A 
great  university  may  create  similarly  favorable  conditions  for 
the  exceptional  individual  in  a  comparatively  rural  community. 

7.  In  the  great  city  there  is  so  much  of  a  given  variety 
of  humanity,  and  given  varieties  so  tend  to  aggregate  and 
integrate  that  we  have  the  phenomenon  of  "quarters" — the 
quarter  of  the  rich  and  of  the  poor,  the  Ghetto,  Chinatown, 
little  Italy,  th6  red-light  district,  the  wholesale  district,  and  the 
financial  district  with  its  banks  and  brokers'  offices,  and  others 
more.     This   facilitates   certain   activities,   intensifies   certain 
traits,  and  hinders  the  spread  of  common  sympathy,  under- 
standing, and  social  assimilation. 

8.  City  life  is  characterized  by  an  anonymity.    In  the  city 


64  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

next-door  neighbors  may  not  know  each  other  by  name.  Not 
one  in  a  thousand  that  meets  John  Doe  in  public  places  may 
know  him  by  name,  especially  if  he  is  out  of  his  own  "quarter." 
Families  may  reside  in  the  same  apartment  house  and  ride 
up  and  down  in  the  same  elevator  but  never  speak.  The 
offices  of  successful  men  practicing  the  same  profession  are 
sometimes  opposite  each  other,  across  the  street,  when  the  men 
may  never  even  have  heard  of  each  other.  Thus  are  lacking 
the  repression  of  tendencies  toward  personal  vices,  as  well 
as  the  elicitation  of  personal  excellencies  and  values  which 
depend  upon  the  more  personal  group  life  implied  by  the  word 
"neighborhood." 

A  highly  developed  police  system  may  attempt  to  keep 
track  of  individual  citizens  and  record  the  birth,  schooling, 
occupation,  dwelling-place,  arrests,  sicknesses  and  death  of 
each.  Old-world  cities  have  gone  much  further  than  we  in 
gathering  such  data.  Records  of  such  important  facts  would 
in  the  aggregate  furnish  a  mass  of  statistical  data,  that  would 
be  exceedingly  valuable  for  social  guidance.  However  they 
are  not  a  substitute  for  personal  acquaintance. 

It  is  to  be  hoped  that  a  degree  of  neighborhood  organiza- 
tion in  the  city  may  some  time  be  achieved  by  developing 
recreational,  cultural  and  religious  activities  in  a  parochial  or 
district  system.  It  may  be  that  the  neighborhood  should  rank 
next  after  the  family  as  a  means  of  developing  personal  and 
social  values. 

9.  Urban  life  is  characterized  by  a  heightened  dependence 
of  each  individual  and  household  upon  communal  activities. 
In  the  country  the  farmer's  own  lamp  in  the  house  and  lantern 
on  the  road  furnish  light;  his  own  well  or  cistern  supplies 
water;  his  own  care  defends  him  and  his  family  against  fire, 
tramp,  and  microbes,  and  his  own  conveyance  transports  them. 
But  in  the  city  rapid  intramural  transportation,  light,  water, 
sewerage,  garbage  disposal,  fire  and 'police  protection,  sup- 
pression of  contagious  diseases,  inspection  of  food  and  milk, 
even  clean  air  and  a  space  in  which  the  children  may  gather 
and  play,  all  depend  upon  communal  action.  The  individual 
is  dependent  for  daily  necessaries,  conveniences,  comfort,  and 


THE  CITY  65 

health  upon  activities  which  he  alone  cannot  maintain,  and 
which  rest  upon  the  general  intelligence,  fidelity  and  public 
spirit,  or  in  an  autocratic  community,  upon  the  presence  of 
these  qualities  in  the  officials  set  over  him. 

Probably  a  hundred  thousand  deaths  might  be  saved  an- 
nually in  American  cities,  and  a  million  or  two  cases  of  illness 
prevented,  if  the  best  sanitary  administration  anywhere  prac- 
ticed should  be  made  universal.  In  New  York  City  the  death 
rate  has  declined  in  successive  ten-year  periods  from  27.17 
per  thousand  to  25.27  to  23.26  to  19.17  to  15.51  to  14.13,  a 
total  decline  of  47.9  per  cent.  In  Chicago  seven  successive 
decades  have  seen  progressive  decline  in  the  death  rate  from 
37.06  to  14.56,  a  total  decline  of  60.7  per  cent.  A  decline  of 
i  per  thousand  in  the  death  rate  of  New  York  City  means 
that  4,766  persons  live  through  the  year  who  otherwise  would 
have  died.  The  general  death  rate  of  all  places  in  the  regis- 
tration area  of  the  United  States  having  a  population  of  2,500 
or  more  was  15  per  thousand  in  1913.  Montclair,  New  Jersey, 
a  city  of  26,000,  has  a  death  rate  of  9.37.  This  city  spends 
46  cents  per  capita  or  nearly  $12,000  per  year  on  its  health 
department.  Many  cities  of  that  size  do  not  spend  5  per  cent, 
of  that  sum.  It  is  evident  that  much  improvement  remains 
to  be  made.  A  change  in  the  government  of  a  city  some- 
times means  a  rise  in  the  death  rate  involving  the  death  of 
hundreds  of  citizens  per  year. 

The  study  of  vital  statistics  throws  a  faint  reflected  light 
upon  that  which  might  be  revealed  if  other  phases  of  wel- 
fare which  depend  upon  social  activity  could  be  statistically 
measured. 

In  the  city  not  health  alone,  but  also  convenience,  pros- 
perity, pleasures,  and  character  itself,  are  largely  dependent 
on  communal  cooperation.  This  last  statement  is  so  important 
that  it  would  justify  a  volume  to  expand  it.1 

The  Growth,  of  Cities. — The  growth  of  cities,  and  especially 
the  increase  in  the  proportion  of  the  entire  population  living 

1  There  are  a  number  of  volumes  that  do  expand  it.  See,  for  ex- 
ample, F.  C.  Howe :  The  Modern  City  and  Its  Problems.  Scribners, 

1915, 


66  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

in  cities,  has  been  enormous  during  the  last  decades.  In  the 
judgment  of  some  observers  it  is  "the  most  remarkable  social 
phenomenon"  of  our  time.  At  the  beginning  of  the  last  cen- 
tury New  York  had  a  population  of  only  60,489.  The  site 
of  Chicago  was  a  windswept  swamp.  Philadelphia,  New  York, 
Baltimore,  Boston,  Charleston,  and  Salem,  these  six,  were 
the  only  cities  in  this  country  having  as  many  as  8,000  in- 
habitants. At  the  end  of  that  century,  instead  of  only  six 
cities  with  a  population  as  numerous  as  8,000,  there  were  545 
such  cities.  During  that  century  "the  urban  population  of  the 
United  States  multiplied  87-fold,  while  that  of  the  country 
as  a  whole,  including  the  cities,  increased  only  12-fold."  *  In 
1790  only  3.35  per  cent,  of  the  people  of  the  United  States 
lived  in  cities.  By  1900  a  majority  of  the  population  in  fifteen 
states  was  urban  and  over  two-thirds  of  the  population  of 
eight  states.  By  1910  the  United  States  had  228  cities  of 
over  25,000  inhabitants,  50  cities  of  over  100,000,  19  cities 
of  over  a  quarter  of  a  million,  5  cities  of  over  half  a  million, 
3  cities  of  over  a  million,  and  one  city  of  nearly  five  millions. 
By  that  date  over  28,500,000  people  in  the  United  States 
were  living  in  cities  of  25,000  or  more.  The  cities  of  this 
country  of  100,000  or  over  grew  in  aggregate  population  during 
the  twenty  years  ending  1910  from  11,470,364  to  20,302,138. 
The  rate  of  increase  was  greater  during  the  second  than  dur- 
ing the  first  of  these  two  decades  and  the  178  cities  of  between 
25-  and  100,000  showed  an  even  higher  percentage  of  increase. 
Those  of  over  100,000  and  about  one-third  of  all  cities  of  both 
classes  showed  an  increase  of  over  50  per  cent,  each  in  the 
ten  years  between  1900  and  1910.  There  is  no  reason  to 
doubt  that  the  cities  of  this  country  will  continue  for  a  time 
to  grow  in  some  such  tremendous  proportion  as  hitherto. 

The  recent  growth  of  cities,  and  especially  the  more  rapid 
growth  of  cities  than  of  rural  population,  is  not  a  phenomenon 
peculiar  to  the  United  States.  "London  is  probably  two  thou- 
sand years  old,  and  yet  four-fifths  of  its  growth  was  added 
during  the  past  century.  From  1850  to  1890  Berlin  grew 

*A.  F.  Weber:  Growth  of  Cities.  Columbia  University,  1898; 
P.  23. 


THE  CITY  67 

more  rapidly  than  New  York.  Paris  is  now  five  times  as  large 
as  it  was  in  1800.  Rome  has  increased  50  per  cent,  since 
1890.  St.  Petersburg  has  increased  fivefold  in  a  hundred  years. 
Odessa  is  a  thousand  years  old,  but  nineteen-twentieths  of  its 
population  were  added  during  the  nineteenth  century.  Bombay 
grew  from  150,000  to  821,000  from  1800  to  1890.  Tokio 
increased  nearly  800,000  during  the  last  twenty  years  of  the 
century;  while  Osaka  was  nearly  four  times  as  large  in  1903 
as  1872,  and  Cairo  has  more  than  doubled  since  1850.  Thus 
in  Europe,  Asia,  and  Africa,  we  find  that  a  redistribution  of 
population  is  taking  place.  The  movement  from  country  to 
city  is  a  world  phenomenon."  1 

The  Causes  of  Increasing  Urbanization. — The  more  rapid 
growth  of  urban  than  of  rural  population  is  mainly  attrib- 
utable to  two  great  causes  which  are  of  worldwide  operation. 

i.  Recent  technic  achievements  have  made  it  more  prac- 
ticable for  people  to  live  together  in  large  numbers,  and  people 
being  sociable,  gregarious,  stimulated  and  pleased  by  the 
presence  and  activities  of  numerous  associates,  take  advan- 
tage of  the  newly  developed  practicability  of  congregating  in 
cities. 

Only  great  achievements  in  transportation  make  it  pos- 
sible to  gather  for  city-dwellers  daily  supplies  of  fresh  food, 
sweet  milk  from  a  radius  of  half  a  thousand  miles,  fresh  fish 
from  across  the  continent,  and  delicious  fruits  from1  alien 
zones.  Only  great  advancement  in  sanitary  engineering  makes 
it  possible  for  the  massed  millions  of  a  metropolis  to  live 
together  upon  a  tiny  area  that  remains  sweet  and  clean.  Until 
recent  times  no  city  could  maintain  itself  without  the  influx 
of  population  from  the  healthier  rural  areas,  but  we  now 
know  how  to  make  the  city  almost  as  wholesome  as  the 
country.  We  know  how,  though  we  have  not  yet  generally 
accomplished  it.  If  it  is  still  true,  as  some  good  authorities 
think,  that  the  great  city  cannot  maintain  itself  without  the 
influx  of  fresh  blood  from  the  country,  it  is  not  for  lack  of 
technic  control,  but  for  lack  of  social  control,  for  lack  of  the 

'Josiah  Strong:    The  Challenge  of  the  City.     New  York,   19x17, 


68  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

citizenship  that  would  secure  adequate  administration  of  our 
technic  resources,  and  because  of  sterilizing  vices,  postpone- 
ment of  marriage,  limitation  of  offspring,  and  other  social 
causes  of  an  excess  of  deaths  over  births.  , 

2.  The  second  cause  of  the  excess  of  urban  over  rural 
growth  has  lain  in  the  fact  that  men  must  live  where  they 
can  find  employment,  and  the  recent  developments  of  manu- 
facture and  commerce  have  occasioned  an  immense  expan- 
sion in  the  demand  for  workers  in  the  industries  that  are 
mostly  carried  on  in  cities,  but  no  such  expansion  in  the 
demand  for  agricultural  workers.  In  fact,  the  application  of 
the  new  machinery  to  agriculture  and  of  scientific  methods 
to  crop  production  greatly  diminishes  the  number  of  men 
that  otherwise  would  be  required  in  agriculture.  It  has  been 
estimated  that  four  men  can  now  produce  the  food  that  for- 
merly required  the  labor  of  fourteen.  The  other  ten  with 
their  families  must  go  to  the  city  to  find  employment  unless 
some  other  change  takes  place.  It  is  true  that  scientific 
methods  of  production  in  manufacture  also  increase  the 
amount  of  goods  produced  by  each  laborer,  but  there  is  this 
difference — the  amount  of  food  men  can  consume  is  limited, 
but  the  quantity  of  manufactured  articles  that  they  can  con- 
sume is  almost  limitless,  and  the  variety  of  manufactured 
goods  that  they  can  use  is  as  little  limited.  The  demand  for 
agricultural  products  is  therefore  far  less  expansive  than  the 
demand  for  manufactured  goods.  With  our  improved  agri- 
culture we  can  feed  an  increasing  population,  and  with  our 
improved  manufacture  and  commerce  we  can  find  employment 
for  the  added  numbers  in  cities. 

For  the  present  and  the  near  future  it  is  useless  to  try 
to  stem  the  disproportionate  growth  of  cities.  It  is  possible 
however  to  diminish  it  somewhat,  especially  in  so  far  as  it  is 
due  to  the  fact  that  since  it  has  become  technically  possible 
for  them  to  do  so,  men  prefer  to  live  in  cities.  The  city  has 
improved  faster  than  the  country;  there  is  much  room  for 
improvement  in  rural  life  and  good  prospect  that  it  will  im- 
prove. We  may  believe  on  this  account  that  in  so  far  as  the 
selection  of  urban  or  rural  residence  is  a  matter  of  choice 


THE  CITY  69 

and  not  of  economic  necessity,  a  larger  number  will  prefer 
the  peace,  independence,  nearness  to  nature,  and  personal  ties 
of  the  country  to  the  excitements  of  city  crowds  and  sights. 
Moreover,  the  attractions  of  the  city  and  yet  more  the  ig- 
norance of  throngs  of  immigrants  who  are  deposited  at  our 
ports  and  terminals,  concerning  the  opportunities  of  the  coun- 
try has  carried  the  excess  of  urbanization  somewhat  beyond 
the  point  of  greatest  economic  advantage.  The  production  of 
food  has  increased  far  less  rapidly  than  the  number  to  be 
fed,  and  the  high  prices  of  agricultural  products  and  demand 
for  agricultural  labor  and  oversupply  of  labor  in  cities  call 
for  a  slight  increase  of  the  proportion  of  country-dwellers. 
But  most  of  the  disproportionate  growth  of  cities  is  due  to 
the  present  character  of  the  demand  for  labor  and  in  so 
far  as  this  disproportionate  growth  is  due  to  the  fact  that 
men  must  go  where  they  can  find  employment,  it  is  useless 
to  cry  out,  "Back  to  the  land."  A  more  general  demand  for 
a  varied  table,  for  fruits,  poultry,  and  vegetables,  will  call 
for  a  larger  amount  of  intensive  and  diversified  agriculture, 
raising  valuable  crops  on  a  small  acreage.  This  will  some- 
what increase  the  number  who  find  employment  on  the 
land. 

An  important  modification  of  the  tendency  to  concentrate 
opportunities  for  employment  in  the  great  centers  lies  in  the 
more  and  more  frequent  location  of  manufacturing  indus- 
tries in  villages  and  small  towns.  The  Interstate  Commerce 
Commission  has  interfered  with  the  discrimination  in  freight 
rates  which  once  almost  forced  business  to  gather  about  the 
great  terminals,  and  allows  it  to  spread  to  towns  included  in 
districts  of  equal  tariffs.  Distribution  of  power  by  electricity 
should  have  some  influence  in  scattering  industrial  plants. 
Labor  troubles  are  less  in  the  smaller  localities  where  work- 
men and  overseers  are  not  separated  into  different  urban 
quarters,  but  live  as  neighbors,  attend  the  same  church,  and 
send  their  children  to  the  same  schools.  Some  of  the  most 
intelligent  and  cultured  among  the  manufacturers  prefer  to 
live  and  to  rear  their  families  in  the  village  or  small  city 
rather  than  in  the  metropolitan  center.  For  a  long  time, 


JO  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

however,  these  things  will  only  modify,  and  not  end,  the 
present  trend  toward  increasing  urbanization. 

The  disproportionately  rapid  growth  of  cities  in  this  coun- 
try is  not  so  largely  due,  as  many  think,  to  removals  from 
the  country  regions  of  our  own  states.  It  is  true  that  in 
some  of  the  older  states  the  descendants  of  the  native  stock 
have,  to  a  considerable  extent,  moved  to  town  and  their' places 
in  the  country  are  being  taken  by  immigrants.  It  must,  how- 
ever, be  remembered  that  a  large  portion  of  those  who  have 
left  the  rural  districts  of  our  older  states  have  gone  not 
to  cities  but  to  Western  farms.  There  is  a  world  movement 
from  country  to  city,  and  the  movement  to  our  cities  is 
largely  from  the  country  districts  of  the  old  world.  It  has 
been  roughly  estimated  that  between  35  and  40  per  cent,  of 
the  increase  in  urban  population  is  drawn  from  the  rural 
districts  of  our  own  country;  that  35  to  40  per  cent,  of  it 
:s  made  up  of  immigrants  from  other  countries,  the  great 
majority  of  whom  settle  in  cities,  and  that  over  20  per  cent, 
of  it  is  due  to  natural  increase,  for  notwithstanding  the 
diminished  domesticity  and  small  families  of  the  descendants 
of  native  Americans  who  live  in  cities  and  the  somewhat 
higher  death  rate  in  cities,  the  families  of  immigrants  who 
live  in  cities  are  large  enough  to  bring  the  increase  by  excess. 
of  births  over  deaths  to  about  that  figure.1 

What  Makes  Americans  Out  of  Europeans? — Before  turning 
from  the  national  distribution  of  population  to  the  study  of 
smaller  and  more  temporary  groups  we  must  observe  that  the 
character  of  American  social  life,  and  the  distinctive  traits 
of  the  American  people  have  resulted  very  largely  from  the 
fact  that  the  population  has  been  small  relatively  to  the  expanse 
of  available  territory. 

If  an  English  or  German  farmer  of  eighty  years  ago 
had  four  sons  and  the  oldest  son  inherited  the  ancestral  acres, 
the  second  was  apprenticed  to  a  trade  in  Sheffield  or  Erfurt 

1  The  balance  is  from  incorporation  of  suburban  areas.  Compare 
J.  M.  Gillette,  Constructive  Rural  Sociology,  Sturgis  and  Walton  (Re- 
vised), 1916,  page  85;  also  Quarterly  Publications  of  American  Statis- 
tical Association,  Vol.  XIV,  page  649  and  page  671. 


THE  CITY  7f 

but  the  two  youngest  emigrated  to  the  United  States,  then 
after  forty  years 1  the  two  emigrants  had  probably  become 
quite  different  men  from  their  two  brothers  who  remained 
in  their  native  land.  The  oldest  brother  used  a  hoe,  scythe, 
and  cart  which  were  heavy  and  awkward,  while  the  tools 
of  the  American  farmer  were  light  and  nicely  balanced,  and 
among  them  were  some  implements  that  the  elder  brother 
had  never  possessed,  for  example,  a  gang  plow,  and  a  reaper 
and  binder.  The  emigrant  to  America  who  engaged  in  me- 
chanical industry*  was  required  to  learn  time-saving  devices 
which  in  some  cases  fully  doubled  efficiency  as  compared  with 
that  of  men  engaged  in  corresponding  labor  in  the  old  world. 
The  old-world  brothers  were  custom-  and  tradition-bound 
while  the  Americans  were  eagerly  looking  for  innovations,  and 
confidently  expecting  them  to  be  worthy  of  adoption.  The 
American  mechanic,  if  employed  by  a  great  industrial  con- 
cern, did  not,  like  his  European  brother  mechanic,  confine  his 
interest  and  attention  to  the  faithful  discharge  of -petty  de- 
tails committed  to  him,  but  took  an  interest  in  the  business 
as  a  whole  in  its  various  processes  and  its  commercial  relation- 
ships. The  two  Americans,  unlike  the  elder  brothers,  did 
not  assume  a  servile  manner  and  mode  of  address  in  the 
presence  of  boss,  or  owner,  nor  of  clergyman  or  mayor,  but 
looked  on  all  faces  with  level  glances.  The  American  mechanic 
was  far  less  strictly  dependent  upon  instructions  than  his  old- 
world  brother ;  instead  he  did  what  seemed  requisite  to  make 
the  process  of  work  go  forward,  if  necessary,  without  in- 
structions, and  sometimes  in  disregard  of  instructions  which 
had  not  met  the  requirements  of  new  conditions.  The  Ameri- 
can not  only  felt  himself  equal  to  the  demands  of  his  daily 
work,  though  unguided  by  a  foreman's  directions,  and  even 
equal  to  comprehending  the  business  as  a  whole,  but  also 
felt  himself  equal  to  serving  as  representative  to  the  legis- 
lature, and  believed  that  after  a  little  experience  in  the  state 

1 1  date  this  description  forty  years  back  because,  the  differences 
noted  were  greater  then  than  now,  as  the  peculiarity  of  American  con- 
ditions to  which  "American"  traits  are  due  has  already  considerably 
diminished. 


?2  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

assembly  he  would  be  quite  capable  to  take  a  hand  in  making 
laws  for  the  nation.  He  had  even  a  greater  confidence  than 
this,  the  faith,  namely,  that  in  spite  of  the  blundering  and 
the  rascality  of  men  inferior  to  himself,  who  had  gone  into 
politics,  everything  would  come  out  well  enough  in  the  end 
and  nothing  could  stay  the  march  of  the  nation's  progress. 

These  American  traits  were  due  to  the  rich  natural  re- 
sources, the  sparseness  of  population,  and  the  comparative 
lack  of  opportunity  for  special  training  in  America.  These 
are  not  the  only  causes  peculiarly  affecting  American  society; 
the  social  past  and  inborn  traits  of  our  early  settlers,  and  the 
great  diversity  of  our  later  immigration  have  also  been  power- 
ful and  peculiar  determinants.  But  the  traits  just  discussed 
are  practically  due  to  the  geographic  and  technic  conditions 
just  named,  and  to  the  social  lack  of  opportunities  for  special 
training. 

Our  new  agricultural  machinery  and  swift  industrial 
methods  have  not  been  due  to  a  mysterious  genius  for  inven- 
tion but  to  prairies  to  be  tilled,  and  cities  to  be  built,  with 
but  few  hands  for  the  work.  There  is  no  reason  for  thinking 
that  the  mechanic  who  emigrated  to  America  had  different 
inventive  talents  from  that  of  his  brother  who  remained  in 
Europe.  But  in  this  new  and  sparsely  settled  land  labor 
must  be  economized  by  machinery  and  technique  because  it  was 
scarce  and  if  ill  paid  would'  desert  wage-paid  industry  and 
"take  up"  free  land.  And  where  necessity  and  opportunity 
pressed  on  millions,  among  those  millions  some  were  found  to 
respond  with  the  necessary  inventions.  Moreover,  the  rapid 
invention  and  the  swift  changes  invited  or  compelled  by  new 
and  untried  but  bountiful  conditions  broke  the  bonds  of 
custom  and  tradition  and  substituted  the  confident  expectation 
of  successful  innovation.  Furthermore,  in  the  old  world  spe- 
cial training  was  largely  the  privilege  of  the  fortunate,  but 
where  nearly  all  men  lacked  special  training  a' natural  equality 
was  established;  and  since  there  were  not  enough  trained 
men  for  positions  where  older  civilizations  demanded  train- 
ing, untrained  but  able  and  forceful  men  rose  from  the  ranks 
to  every  sort  of  position  of  command.  Since  it  was  the  rule 


THE  CITY  73 

that  men  rose  from  the  ranks  to  every  level,  therefore  men 
of  all  ranks  felt  themselves  potentially  and  essentially  equals. 
Men  who  did  not  feel  themselves  condemned  to  eternal  drudg- 
ery at  a  petty  task,  but  regarded  themselves  as  candidates 
for  positions  of  management,  lifted  their  eyes  from  their 
benches  and  understood  the  'plant  and  the  industry,  and  on 
occasion  acted  as  their  own  foremen.  And  if  they  had  little 
respect  for  authorities  and  much  admiration  for  smartness, 
it  was  partly  because  untrained  natural  ability  and  bluffing 
and  blind  assumption  actually  succeeded*.  And  if  they  suc- 
ceeded it  was  because  most  of  the  problems  to  be  met  were 
simple  and  because  with  few  people  in  a  vast  rich  land  with 
new  forests,  new  mines,  new  oil  wells,  new  prairie  lands, 
there  was  elbow-room  for  enormous  blundering,  and  the  blun- 
dering brought  no  disaster  so  long  as  "Uncle  Sam  was  rich 
enough  to  give  us  all  a  farm."  And  the  daring  and  optimism 
of  the  hopeful  appropriators  of  this  wealth  knew  no  bounds. 
The  free  land  is  now  almost  gone.  There  are  few  mines, 
forests,  oil  lands,  water  rights,  and  railroad  prospects  to  be 
seized  upon.  Special  privilege  is  compactly  organized.  The 
keenness  of  competition,  where  competition  is  not  stifled  by 
such  organization,  and  the  complexity  and  evident  difficulty 
of  public  problems  and  the  higher  level  of  intelligent  public 
demands  call  for  training  as  well  as  ability  in  positions  of 
command.  We  have  by  no  means  forgotten  the  lessons  of 
our  past  nor  lost  the  triumphant  audacity  of  our  first  easy 
successes,  but  if  we  keep  them  we  must  combine  the  teachings 
of  our  past  with  other  lessons. 


CHAPTER  VI 
PERSONAL  GROUPS  AND  CROWDS 

Personal  Groups. — Not  only  large  groups  but  also  smail 
ones,  like  the  family  and  the  circle  of  intimates,  have  in  the 
aggregate  an  incalculably  great  and  important  effect  in  con- 
ditioning the  character,  activities,  and  happiness  of  individuals 
and  of  the  societies  into  which  individuals  unite.  Even  tem- 
porary groups,  such  as  are  constantly  forming  and  dissolving 
in  parlors  and  saloons,  on  playgrounds  and  street  corners, 
keep  up  a  constant  shifting  of  causal  impacts  like  the  stirring 
in  of  materials  in  a  process  of  chemical  manufacture. 

In  this  chapter  we  are  postponing  consideration  of  the 
effects  which  depend  on  the  quality  of  the  speech  and  con- 
duct of  those  who  associate,  and  are  recognizing  the  causal 
significance  of  mere  juxtaposition  in  space  and  time  of  a  given 
number  of  individuals,  for  in  this  grouping  in  space  and  time 
we  see  one  of  the  technic  conditions  by  which  the  life  of 
society  is  to  be  explained. 

When  a  group  is  so  small  that  the  personality  and  per- 
sonal experience  of  each  is  known  to  all,  we  have  a  personal 
group,  quite  in  contrast  with  the  impersonality  and  anonymity 
of  the  city  and  the  larger  public  of  state  and  nation.  Personal 
grouping  has  two  marked  effects  upon  the  activities  of  those 
so  associated.  The  first  is  an  effect  upon  the  individuality  of 
the  members  of  such  a  group,  which  has  already  been  noted 
in  contrasting  the  effects  of  the  great  groups  of  cities  with 
those  of  the  small  groups  of  villages  and  rural  communities. 
This  individual  effect  was  shown  to  be  itself  twofold,  (a)  It 
results  in  powerfully  repressing  conduct  which  is  disapproved 
by  the  personal  group.  In  a  great  population  the  individual 
who  is  disposed  to  commit  acts  of  vice  and  crime  can  find 

74 


PERSONAL  GROUPS  AND  CROWDS  75 

and  join  personal  groups  that  show  no  disapproval  and  may 
even  applaud  his  evil  deeds,  while  to  the  social  whole  which 
would  disapprove,  the  individual  is  lost  to  view;  but  if  the 
social  whole  is  a  personal  group  there  is  no  such  escape  from 
its  contempt  and  retribution,  (b)  It  results  in  eliciting  those 
achievements  and  attainments  which  the  personal  group  ap- 
proves, and  applauds  or  demands. 

The  second  effect  of  groupings  small  enough  to  be  per- 
sonal in  the  sense  defined,  is  not  upon  the  individuality  of 
those  associated  but  upon  their  social  conduct  in  so  far  as 
individuality  and  social  conduct  are  distinguishable  from  each 
other.  That  such  a  distinction  may  properly  be  drawn  is 
proved  by  the  fact  that  very  frequently  the  same  person 
exhibits  one  kind  of  conduct  in  a  personal  group  and  an 
opposite  kind  of  conduct  in  impersonal  relations.  The  social 
instincts  operate  most  effectively  only  in  personal  groups. 
Thus  sympathy  can  largely  be  depended  upon  to  restrain  evil 
conduct  among  those  who  personally  know  each  other.  The 
swindler  is  often  honest  and  generous  in  dealing  with  per- 
sonal acquaintances.  The  plundering,  corrupt,  and  corrupt- 
ing political  boss  may  be  a  loyal  good  fellow  to  his  gang. 
Society  suffers  from  the  vast  mischief  wrought  at  long 
range  by  good-hearted  sinners.  Instinctive  goodness,  pre- 
cious as  it  is  in  personal  groups,  does  not  meet  the  re- 
quirements of  a  developed  civilization.  Even  cruel  and  mur- 
derous savages  live  in  kindly  and  sociable  good  nature  among 
themselves.  But  in  groups  so  large  as  to  be  impersonal  we 
cannot  depend  upon  the  social  instincts  to  secure  conduct 
which  is  social,  and  to  repress  that  which  is  anti-social,  and 
we  must  rely  either  upon  control,  through  law  or  other  agency, 
or  else  upon  a  developed  rational  righteousness,  which  mere 
instinctive  good  nature  does  not  supply.1 

It  is  well  to  introduce  a  caution  at  this  point  against  con- 
fusing the  effect  of  the  sentiment  of  blood-kinship,  especially 
of  a  social  tradition  of  the  sacredness  of  kinship  and  clannish- 
ness,  with  the  effect  purely  attributable  to  smallness  of  num- 

1E.  A.  Ross:  Sin  and  Society.  Houghton  Mifflin  &  Co.,  1907; 
and  Social  Control,  part  i.  Macmillan,  1901. 


76  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

bers;  and  to  avoid  confusing  the  effects  of  heterogeneity  of 
interests  and  character  with  those  purely  attributable  to  large- 
ness of  numbers.  The  opportunity  to  Jekyll  and  Hyde  be- 
tween the  respectable  and  vicious  classes  of  a  community 
and  the  difficulties  that  divergent  interests  and  diversities  of 
station  place  in  the  way  of  communism  or  of  proportioned 
justice  depend  partly  upon  other  factors  than  the  mere  num- 
ber of  associates.  But  after  making  all  due  allowance  for 
complications,  the  mere  technic  fact  of  difference  in  the 
size  of  groups  has  the  causal  significance  just  attributed 
to  it. 

While  instinctive  cohesion  is  stronger  in  small  groups,  so 
also  is  personal  friction  greater,  and  the  members  of  a  small 
group  much  in  spatial  proximity,  must  have  more  in  common 
in  order  to  render  their  union  permanent  and  strong,  than 
is  required  to  bind  together  larger  populations.  It  is  true 
that  small  dense  groups  are  almost  sure  to  have  much  in 
common,  and  if,  as  in  the  case  of  a  savage  horde  in  a  howling 
wilderness,  no  other  associates  are  available,  the  sociable  in- 
stinct as  well  as  practical  necessity  will  keep  them  united; 
but  such  a  group  in  the  midst  of  a  larger  society  will  very 
soon  either  develop  a  strong  and  probably  many-stranded 
bond  of  common  sentiment  or  interest,  or  else  fly  apart.  A 
great  group  can  hardly  have  so  multifold  a  bond  of  union, 
and  it  does  not  require  it  in  order  to  endure  for  a  long 
period. 

Custom,  which  plays  so  tremendous  a  role  in  society  and 
social  evolution,  is  largely  a  matter  of  personal  pressure 
and  influence.  Certain  customs  radiate  afar  in  a  democratic 
country,  and  an  age  in  which  the  technique  of  transportation 
and  communication  produce  the  results  that  earlier  depend 
on  spatial  proximity.  Yet  the  characteristic  range  of  custom 
is  narrow,  not  the  great  nation,  but  the  province  or  the 
canton  and  the  social  rank  or  class.  Even  when  a  custom 
has  spread  afar  it  is  mainly  the  personal  group  that  enforces 
it  upon  the  individual. 

The  Group  of  Two. — The  group  of  two  takes  on  a  peculiar 
character,  a  character  which  is  changed  if  more  associates 


PERSONAL  GROUPS  AND  CROWDS  77 

are  added.  The  addition  of  only  one  more  impairs  or  destroys 
that  peculiar  character.  Says  Simmel:  "How  differently  a 
common  lot,  an  undertaking,  an  agreement,  a  shared  secret, 
binds  each  of  two  sharers,  from  the  case  when  even  only 
three  participate !"  *  As  the  difference  between  solitude  and 
the  presence  of  a  companion  is  immeasurably  great,  so  the 
next  greatest  social  change  is  the  difference  between  relation 
with  a  single  individual  and  relation  with  a  collectivity.  In 
the  former  case  the  subtler  communion  of  moods  is  possible. 
In  that  case,  also,  for  one  to  leave  is  to  destroy  the  group, 
for  one  to  fail  the  other  is  to  ruin  the  relationship — to  the 
cost  of  both — and  loyalty  and  the  sense  of  responsibility  are 
enlisted  to  the  utmost,  and  the  sense  of  reliance  of  each  upon 
•  the  other  is  strong. 

The  Federal  Character  of  Large  Groups. — If  we  admit  to 
our  discussion  the  heterogeneity  which  great  numbers  almost 
always  imply  and  which  they  partly  cause,  then  we  must 
observe  that  great  aggregates  which  have  any  social  unity 
at  all  are  almost  sure  to  have  a  federal  character;  that  is, 
they  are  a  union  of  smaller  groups  which  are  comparatively 
dissimilar  from  each  other  and  each  of  which  is  integrated  by 
the  very  traits  that  differentiate  it  from  other  parts  of  the 
same  great  whole.  And  the  bond  which  unites  each  part  may 
be  comparatively  solid  while  the  bond  which  unites  the  fed- 
eral whole  may  be  comparatively  tenuous.  Such  great  aggre- 
gates contain  the  possibility  of  secession,  disintegration  and 
recombination.  Herein  lies  a  clue  to  national  politics  with 
its  shifting  of  majorities  as  interest  groups  change  allegiance 
from  one  party  to  another,  and  with  its  succession  of  platform 
issues,  as  each  party  seeks  to  rally  to  itself  those  who,  often 
unconsciously,  are  united  by  the  different  interests  to  which 
platforms  appeal.  Herein  also  lies  the  main  obstacle  to 
the  various  social  Utopias,  which  require  a  subordination  not 
only  of  individual  interests,  but  also  of  class  interests,  to  com- 
mon principles  to  which  the  instinctive  morality  developed  by 

1  On  the  present  subject  compare  Georg  Simmel:  Soziologie, 
Chapter  II.  Bunker  &  Humboldt,  Leipzig,  1908;  and  the  same  author 
in  the  American  Journal  of  Sociology,  viii,  i. 


78  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

personal  groups  is  not  only  inadequate,  but  to  which  it  is 
often  antagonistic.  Progress  in  morality  consists  chiefly  in 
the  due  subordination  of  particularistic  interests  to  interests 
affecting  larger  social  circles.  The  instinctive  morality  native 
to  personal  groups  may  suffice  to  establish  and  maintain  the 
tradition  of  communism  in  a  little  horde -of  savages  or  in  a 
Russian  mir,  but  it  does  not  suffice  to  establish  any  form 
of  social  justice  among  the  great  federations  of  interest  groups 
which  are  characteristic  of  civilized  society. 

Crowds. — The  mere  assembling  of  a  large  number  of  people 
at  the  same  time  and  place  creates  a  situation  comparable  to 
the  heaping  up  of  materials  that  invite  spontaneous  com- 
bustion. 

1.  Crowds  are  characterized  by  great  facility  of  com- 
munication, with  respect  to  all  ideas  and  emotions  that  can 
be  communicated  by  gestures,  glances,  cries,  bodily  tensions, 
brief  utterances,  but  with  no  corresponding  facility  of  com- 
munication with  reference  to  thoughts  that  would  balance  or 
inhibit  those  superficial  feelings  and  notions.     Explanation, 
argument,  reasoning,  with  their  ponderous  tread,  cannot  over- 
take the  swift  suggestion  that  runs  through  the  crowd  like 
the  wind  over  a  field  of  wheat,  bending  every  head.     More- 
over, even  if  they  could  be  expressed  in  the  signal  code  of 
crowd   intercourse,  the   deepest  thoughts   are   often  hidden. 
Especially  among  the  young,  sacred  ideals  and  cherished  pur- 
poses shrink  from  such  disclosure,  even  in  the  presence  of  a 
few  boon  companions,  while  the  vagrant  impulse  is   freely 
uttered  and  bandied   from  tongue   to  tongue.     The    funda- 
mental social  characteristic  of  the  crowd  is  great  facility  of 
communication  with  reference  to  percepts  and  emotions,  with- 
out corresponding  facility  in  communication  of  ideals,  and 
arguments. 

2.  The  suggestion  which  emanates  from  the  member  of 
the  crowd  who  is  demonstrative  enough  to  catch  the  general 
eye  or  ear,  caught  up  by  others,  is  presently  reflected  by  many 
faces  or  many  voices  or  many  gestures,  and  so  beats  upon 
the  consciousness  of  every  member  of  the  crowd  from  many 
sources,  like  echoes  in  a   whispering  gallery  that  converts 


79 

the  lightest  sound  into  a  clamor,  or  like  the  sound  of  the  cir- 
culating of  blood  in  the  ear  which  the  sea  shell  converts  into 
the  roar  of  the  sea.  When  one  is  aware  that  what  he  feels 
is  felt  by  all  those  around  him,  then  he  feels  it  ten  times 
more.  A  single  person  has  more  or  less  power  to  make  a 
second  person  think  the  thoughts  and  feel  the  impulses  which 
the  first  expresses ;  two  who  agree  have  a  still  greater  power 
to  influence  a  third,  and  the  response  which  one  or  two  could 
but  faintly  arouse,  a  crowd  echoing  from  one  to  another  and 
from  all  to  each  can  multiply.  The  crowd  not  only  commu- 
nicates the  lighter  elements  in  consciousness  with  great 
facility,  but  also  tremendously  emphasizes  and  intensifies 
them. 

3.  This  intensification  of  certain  elements  in  conscious- 
ness tends  to  create  a  partial  dissociation  of  personality,  a 
partial  or  complete  absentmindedness  concerning  all  else.     If 
certain  ideas  or  feelings  entirely  absorb  the  attention  then 
they  determine  speech  and  conduct,  even  though  they  are 
diametrically  opposed  to  the  intentions  or  principles  of  con- 
duct which  have  been  adopted  in  our  balanced  moments  and 
which  usually  govern  us,  but  which   for  the   moment  are 
forgotten. 

4.  The   crowd   is   fickle,   partly   because   crowd   excite- 
ment is   exhausting  and  short-lived,   partly  because   of   the 
dissociative  character  of  crowd  action  just  explained.     That 
is,  crowd  excitement  stimulates  now  one,  now  another,  of  the 
instincts,  acts  now  upon  this  idea,  now  upon  that,  incongruous 
with  the  former,  while  the  personality  as  a  whole  of  each 
member  of  the  crowd,  including  those  deposits  left  by  past 
experience  and  reflection  by  which  in  saner  moments  he  judges 
his  thoughts   and  actions  and  correlates  them   into   a  con- 
sistent unity,  is  as  if  it  were  not,  because  the  single  thought 
or  sentiment  that  is  intensified  by  crowd  excitement  for  the 
iime  so  nearly  absorbs  his  whole  attention.    Hence,  the  crowd 
now  displays  frenzied  courage  and  now  is  panic-stricken;  is 
now  capable  of  heroic  sacrifice  and  now  of  hideous  cruelty. 
To-day  it  raises  its  idol  to  the  skies  and  to-morrow  rolls  him 
in  the  gutter,  as  chance  may  determine. 


8o  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

5.  The  individual  in  the  crowd  tends  to  lose  his  sense 
of  responsibility  and  to  accept  the  way  of  the  crowd  as  suffi- 
ciently authorized  by  the  numbers  who  back  it,  when  it  may 
be  that  the  sober  judgment,  the  total  personality  of  no.  single 
member  of  the  crowd,  approves  of  the  crowd  action.  Thus 
the  crowd  commits  crimes  abhorrent  to  the  conscience  of 
the  individual  members  of  the  crowd.  Corporations,  it  is 
said,  can  sometimes  act  as  if  the  whole  group  had  not  -among 
its  members  materials  enough  to  make  a  single  soul.  And 
partly  for  the  same  reason  the  morality  of  a  nation  in  war 
and  diplomacy  lags  far  behind  the  morality  of  individuals. 

Not  only  does  increase  of  the  number  included  in  a  group 
diminish  both  the  sense  of  responsibility  of  the  members  of 
the  group  toward  each  other,  and  still  more  their  sense  of 
responsibility  and  obligation  toward  outsiders,  but  quite  obvi- 
ously it  makes  it  difficult  to  fix  responsibility  and  inflict  penalty 
or  assign  rewards  for  the  conduct  of  the  group.  The  ruth- 
less visiting  of  the  whole  penalty  upon  each  individual  of 
the  group,  which  characterizes  savage  vengeance,  is  probably 
the  only  effective  method,  but  civilized  society  does  not  tolerate 
that.  Hence  in  our  world,  the  famous  saying  of  Napoleon 
has  much  truth :  "Collective  crimes  involve  nobody."  * 

Where  deeds  are  required,  a  single  person  should,  if  pos- 
sible, be  made  responsible;  and  one  functionary  can  be  in  a 
high  degree  responsible  for  activities  that  transcend  the  power 
of  a  single  actor,  provided  he  is  given  the  right  to  select  his 
own  coadjutors  and  to  dismiss  those  who  do  not  satisfy  him. 

Yet  there  remains  truth  in  the  Scriptural  proverb :  "In 
the  multitude  of  counsellors  there  is  safety."  There  is  a 
difference  in  this  respect  between  counsel  and  action,  between 
plans  and  their  execution,  and  this  difference  is  the  ground 
of  our  political  distinction  between  executive  and  legislative 
functions.  The  numbers  in  a  legislative  assembly  should  be 
sufficient  to  represent  adequately  the  different  interests  that 
may  be  affected  by  the  actions  decided  upon. 

1Cf.  Scipio  Sighele:  La  Foule  Criminelle.  Felix  Alcan,  1901,. 
pages  120  seq. 


PERSONAL  GROUPS  AND  CROWDS  8t 

Councils  are  of  at  least  two  sorts:  First,  those  adapted 
to  decide  what  end  shall  be  sought  in  action;  these  councils 
must  be  representative  wherever  the  probability  of  conflicting 
interests  is  involved.  Second,  those  adapted  to  decide  the 
method  by  which  the  desired  ends  shall  be  sought ;  these  coun- 
cils must  have  adequate  knowledge  about  the  conditions  of 
success  in  the  particular  field  in  which  the  action  will  apply. 
The  latter  is  the  function  of  the  commission  of  experts,  an 
agency  which  with  the  increase  of  public  intelligence  will 
be  increasingly  employed.  These  considerations  apply  not 
only  to  political  councils  and  executives,  but,  like  all  that  is 
here  said,  to  homogeneous  groups  engaged  in  activity  of 
every  sort. 

6.  The  fraction  of  the  personalities  of  its  members  which 
the  excitement  of  the  crowd  cuts  loose  must  be  one  that  they 
have  -in  common,  as  well  as  one  that  can  be  expressed  by  the 
signal-code  of  crowd  interstimulation.  Hence  the  instincts  and 
instinctive  emotions  that  are  common  to  all  men,  such  as 
fear,  anger,  vengefulness,  and  pity,  or  else  ideas  that  are 
ingrained  in  the  minds  of  the  mass,  such  as  the  notions  upon 
which  fanaticism  plays,  or  party  watchwords,  orgr'oup  ideals, 
are  the  subjects  of  crowd  action. 

Hence,  also,  it  follows  that  a  homogeneous  population  is 
more  susceptible  to  crowd  fury  and  "mobmindedness"  than 
one  whose  members  have  different  shibboleths  and  fixed  ideas. 
This  is  one  of  the  penalties  of  that  form  of  social  strength. 
In  their  heterogeneity  cities  have  a  safeguard  against  this 
peril,  a  peril  to  which  they  are  otherwise  specially  exposed. 

Safeguards  against  Crowd  Perils. — In  this  day  when  there 
is  so  powerful  and  increasing  a  tendency  to  put  faith  in  the 
multitude,  it  behooves  us  to  study  the  sociological  characteris- 
tics of  crowds.  We  are  told  that  we  are  witnessing  the 
birth  of  new  dogmas 1  which  "will  soon  have  the  force  of 
old  dogmas;  that  is  to  say,  the  tyrannical  sovereign  force  of 
being  above  discussion.  The  divine  right  of  the  masses  is 
about  to  replace  the  divine  right  of  kings."  We  are  told 
that  "civilizations  as  yet  have  only  been  created  and  directed 

1Gustave  LeBon:   The  Crowd.    Unwin,  1903,  pp.  6,  17,  19.    - 


%2  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

by  a  small  intellectual  aristocracy,  never  by  crowds.  Their 
rule  is  always  tantamount  to  a  barbarous  phase."  We  are 
assured  of  "the  extreme  mental  inferiority  of  crowds,  picked 
assemblies  included,"  and  fhat  this  assurance,  if  somewhat 
too  strong  and  unqualified,  is  still  by  no  means  without  reason, 
the  foregoing  analysis  plainly  shows. 

Moreover,  the  characteristics  of  crowds  are  not  entirely 
confined  to  masses  in  actual  physical  proximity,  but  appear 
wherever  there  exists  among  large  numbers  great  facility  of 
communication  (such  as  that  now  afforded  by  the  press), 
provided  that  communication,  necessarily  or  in  fact,  dissemi- 
nates superficial,  fragmentary,  emotional  states  of  mind  more 
readily  than  sober,  balanced,  and  reasoned  views. 

But  the  public  in  which  modern  democracy  puts  its  trust 
is  after  all  not  the  samt  as  a  crowd.  In  the  first  place 1  "in  the 
throng  the  means  of  expressing  feeling  are  much  more  effective 
than  the  facilities  for  expressing  thought,  but  in  the  dispersed 
group  both  are  confined  to  the  same  vehicle — the  printed  word 
(and  picture) — and  so  ideas  and  opinions  may  run  as  rapidly 
through  the  public  as  emotions."  In  the  second  place  dif- 
ferent newspapers,  each  with  its  own  public,  secure  simul- 
taneous hearing  for  opposing  views,  among  portions  of  the 
population,  and  it  is  even  possible  for  the  same  individual  to 
see  both  sides  of  a  question  in  an  impartial  journal  or  in  the 
pages  of  several  publications.  In  the  third  place,  access  to 
the  printed  page  depends  upo.n  the  assent  of  the  editor  or 
owner,  who,  if  known,  is  a  more  or  less  responsible  person. 
In  fact,  the  role  of  crowds  is  to-day  even  less  proportion- 
ately than  formerly  being  repl-aced  by  the  power  of  "publics." 

However,  in  spite  of  all  this,  it  still  remains  true  that 
our  business,  our  politics  and  our  international  relationships 
are  subject  to  constant  peril  from  booms,  panics,  fads  and 
crazes,  all  of  which  are  exhibitions  of  the  mobmindedness  that 
is  likely  to  appear  when  among  great  numbers  there  is  great 
facility  of  communication,  in  which  there  is  exhibited  a  degree 
of  intelligence  and  deliberate  reason  far  inferior  to  that  of  the 
leaders  of  society,  and  often  inferior  to  that  of  the  average 

*E.  A.  Ross:    Social  Psychology.    Macmillan,  Chaps.  IV.  and  V, 


PERSONAL  GROUPS  AND  CROWDS       83 

of  society,  because  of  the  crowd  reverberation  of  ideas  and 
emotions  which  are  easily  communicated  and  the  relative 
failure  to  communicate  the  solider  elements  of  thought. 

It  is  a  wise  law  which  requires  the  ownership  of  a  period- 
ical to  be  plainly  indicated  upon  every  issue.  It  would  be  well 
for  our  people  to  depend  more  upon  the  statement  of  fact 
and  comment  provided  by  the  best  class  of  weeklies  and 
less  upon  the  necessarily  hurried  and  frequently  distorted 
representations  of  dailies.  The  custom  of  presenting  opposite 
views  from  the  pens  of  able  men  representative  of  opposing 
factions  in  the  same  issue  of  the  same  journal  should  grow  in 
response  to  a  public  demand.  Above  all,  journalism  should 
be  a  profession  animated  by  the  highest  ethical  standards'  and 
the  utmost  sense  of  public  responsibility.  The  press  is  not 
merely  a  private  business  run  for  profit.  It  is  the  public 
utility  above  all  other  public  utilities. 

A  great  protection  against  mobmindedness  on  the  part  of 
the  public  is  the  presence  of  a  few  clear  maxims  or  prin- 
ciples, fruit  of  both  experience  and  reflection,  established 
in  the  common-sense  of  the  mass.  Another  is  the  presence  of 
one  or  more  leaders,  thoroughly  loyal  to  the  general  welfare, 
highly  intelligent,  able  to  make  themselves  heard,  and  loved 
and  trusted  by  the  mass.  Finally,  intelligence  and  moral 
principle  on  the  part  of  the  individual  citizens  is  a  great  safe- 
guard. Yet  the  intelligence  of  the  individuals  who  compose 
a  mob  does  not  make  the  mob  intelligent  if  once  they  become 
a  mob,  but  such  intelligence  is  the  greatest  safeguard  against 
their  being  converted  into  a  mob. 


CHAPTER   VII 

SOCIAL  EFFECTS   OF  THE   AMOUNT,   FORMS,   AND 
DISTRIBUTION  OF  WEALTH 

Effects  of  the  Forms  of  Wealth. — Natural  resources  have 
already  been  considered  in  the  chapter  on  Geographic  Causes 
and  Their  Social  Effects.  Here  we  are  discussing  technic  con- 
ditions and  have  reference  only  to  those  material  conditions 
which  are  the  results  of  human  activity. 

The  material  environment  into  which  we  are  born  is  very 
different  from  that  which  nature  supplied  to  primitive  man. 
Where  once  stood  the  dark  forest  trodden  by  prowling  beasts 
or  quaking  miasmic  bogs  traversed  by  winding  streams,  homes 
for  the  duck  and  bittern,  now  the  city  stands.  The  forest 
has  been  felled,  the  marsh  drained,  the  landscape  obliterated. 
Paved  thoroughfares,  towering  structures,  temples  of  com- 
merce, of  religion,  and  of  art,  subways,  conduits  for  streams 
and  sewers  and  for  gas  and  steam  and  electric  wires,  tram- 
ways and  radiating  lines  of  rails  and  wires  that  unite  this 
center  with  the  homes  of  well  nigh  all  mankind  have  re- 
placed the  -isolated  wilderness  which  nature  placed  here. 
Nature  gave  us  no  great  speed  of  foot  or  wing.  Yet  we 
sweep  across  lands  and  seas,  surpassing  the  deer  in  speed ; 
nature  gave  us  no  vast  strength,  yet  we  bear  burdens  as  we 
fly  that  a  hundred  elephants  could  not  stir.  In  the  service  of 
every  civilized  man  strength  equal  to  that  of  many  horses 
is  employed  through  harnessed  waterfall,,  steam,  and  elec- 
tricity. We  have  separated  continents  and  joined  the  oceans. 
We  have  denuded  the  mountainsides  of  forests,  shrunken  the 
streams,  made  deserts  here,  and  there  by  irrigation  have  made 
the  desert  garden.  By  our  houses,  our  fires,  and  our  woolens 
we  have  made  the  temperate  zohe,  which  half  the  year  is 

84 


AMOUNT, 'FORMS,  DISTRIBUTION  OF  WEALTH    85 

frozen,  the  most  habitable  of  all,  so  that  civilization,  starting 
in  the  favored  spots  that  were  dry  of  atmosphere  and  fertile 
and  warm,  has  tended  northward  to  regions  where  it  could 
not  have  originated.  We  have  brought  into  being  new  varie- 
ties of  cereals  and  fruits  and  animals  to  serve  our  purposes. 

.  The  first  great  American  economist  and  sociologist,  who 
had  seen  the  process  of  reducing  a  virgin  continent  to  the 
uses  of  man,  the  making  of  roads  and  fields  in  trackless  for- 
ests, went  so  far  as  .to  say  that  "land. as  we  are  concerned 
with  it  in  industrial  life,  is  really  an  instrument  of  production 
which  has  been  formed  as  such  by  man,  and  that  its  value  is 
due  to  the  labor  expended  upon  it  in  the  past."  * 

So  great  is  the  significance  of  the  forms  of  wealth  that 
the  stages  of  social  evolution  have  most  commonly  been 
designated  by  reference  to  them,  as  the  stone  age,  the  bronze 
age,  and  the  iron  age,  or,  as  the  primitive  age  of  hunting, 
the  pastoral  age  of  domesticated  animals,  the  agricultural 
age  of  cultivated  crops,  and  the  age  of  manufacture.  Again 
and  again  a  newly  invented  commodity  has  proved  to  be  the 
condition  making  possible  whole  reaches  of  further  social 
advance.  For  example,  the  dish  makes  possible  housekeeping, 
home-making,  saving,  thrift,  economy,  bathing  in  private, 
journeys  requiring  supplies  of  food  and  water.  The  wheel 
is  so  essential  that  we  cannot  conceive  a  high  advancement 
of  social  evolution  without  it.  Gunpowder  did  away  with 
walled  cities,  iron-clad  soldiers,  and  the  tyranny  of  brute 
force,  equalized  serf  and  noble  in  personal  combat,  and  opened 
the  way  to  the  new  democracy.  As  gunpowder  democratized 
the  force  of  arms,  the  printing-press  democratized  the  power 
of  knowledge,  enabled  millions  to  have  one  organized  public 
mind,  so  making  possible  the  great  modern  democracies,  and 
further  rendered  it  possible  for  great  masses  of  men  not  only 
to  guide  and  govern  their  common  life,  but  also  to  enter  into 
a  common  heritage  as  heirs  of  the  intellectual  treasures  of 
the  race.  Textile  machinery  gathered  men  into  factories  and 

1 J.  K.  Ingram :  History  of  Political  Economy,  Macmillan,  1901, 
page  173,  writing  of  the  Principles  of  Social  Science  by  H.  C.  Carey, 
who  lived  1793-1879  and  published  the  work  referred  to  in  1859. 


86  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

factory  towns,  changed  the  independent  hand  worker  into  the 
factory  operative  and  brought  on  the  Industrial  Revolution. 
It  has  been  said  that  in  a  geographic  environment  that  afforded 
no  domesticable  beasts  of  burden,  mankind  could  not  rise 
above  barbarism :  the  steam-engine  is  a  technic  condition  quite 
as  essential  to  yet  further  advance.  If  the  present  age  were 
to  be  distinguished,  as  each  preceding  period  has  been,  by  a 
technic  symbol,  it  should  be  named  the  age  of  power  ma- 
chinery. 

The  practical  importance  of  understanding  the  social  effects 
of  technic  conditions  is  indefinitely  increased  by  the  fact  that 
those  conditions  are  subject  to  human  control  and  can  be 
adapted  to  secure  the  results  desired. 

Transportation. — Of  all  the  forms  of  wealth  there  are  two 
upon  which  social  progress  appears  now  to  depend  more  than 
upon  any  others :  (a)  means  of  transportation  and  communica- 
tion and  (b)  housing.  Among  the  technic  means  of  trans- 
portation the  steam  and  electric  railway  and  the  steamship  are 
at  present  supreme.  Nearly  all  industry  is  dependent  upon* 
them.  By  them  the  farmer  in  North  Dakota  markets  his 
crops  which  find  their  way  to  Minneapolis,  Chicago,  Liver- 
pool, Odessa.  By  them  the  manufacturer  assembles  his  raw 
materials,  machinery,  and  fuel,  and  by  them  he  distributes 
his  products. 

The  material  of  which  a  rubber  button  is  made  was  im- 
ported to  New  York,  then  transported  by  train  to  the  button 
factory.  To  the  button  factory  other  trains  brought  coal  and 
oil.  In  constructing  the  button  factory,  building  materials  were 
used  in  the  assembling  of  which  many  railroads  participated, 
and  in  the  production  of  those  materials  very  many  other 
trains  took  part  and  still  other  trains  had  brought  to  the 
button  factory  machinery  of  various  kinds.  Each  machine 
used  in  making  the  buttons  was  itself  made  in  a  factory 
to  which  many  trains  had  brought  building  materials,  fuel, 
raw  materials,  and  machinery.  Each  bar  of  brass  or  steel 
that  was  brought  to  one  of  the  factories  in  which  button- 
making  machinery  was  made  or  in  which  materials  for  any 
of  the  numerous  factories  involved  were  made,  had  a  history 


AMOUNT,  FORMS,  DISTRIBUTION  OF  WEALTH      87 

in  which  the  railroad  many  times  participated.  The  raw 
ore  of  which  each  of  hundreds  of  bars  of  brass  and  steel 
were  made,  had  been  brought  to  the  smelters,  to  which  also 
fuel  and  machinery  had  been  brought;  pigs  of  metal  had 
been  taken  from  the  smelters  to  the  rolling  mills  at  each  of 
which  other  sets  of  machinery  had  been  assembled.  So  simple 
a  thing  as  this  rubber  button  could  not  have  been  made  as  it 
was  without  the  running  of  hundreds  and  probably  not  with- 
out thousands  of  trips  by  trains  of  cars.  A  rise  in  freight 
rates  all  around  might  easily  wipe  out  the  profits  of  the  manu^ 
facturer.  Discrimination  in  freight  rates  between  different 
localities  can  make  one  of  them  a  great  city,  while  leaving 
the  other,  possessing  equal  natural  resources  and  equally  enter- 
prising inhabitants,  to  decline.  Private  convenience  is  as 
truly  dependent  upon  public  means  of  transportation  as  is 
manufacture.  Not  one  of  us  could  have  had  the  breakfast 
he  had  this  day  without  the  aid  of  the  railroad.  The  oranges 
came  from  California  or  Florida,  the  corn  for  the  muffins 
was  grown  in  Illinois,  the  steak  was  from  a  steer  bred  in 
Texas,  fattened  in  Kansas,  and  slaughtered  in  Chicago.  The 
table,  dishes,  linen,  glass,  and  silverware  were  assembled  from 
far  and  near.  The  common  conveniences  of  every  home  are 
rendered  possible  to  us  by  modern  transportation.  The  rail- 
roads are  the  arteries  of  economic  life ;  they  are  to  the  nation 
what  streets  are  to  the  city.  It  is  as  indefensible  for  one 
to  be  subject  to  uncontrolled  private  ownership  as  for  the 
other.  A  modified  private  ownership  may  be  allowed,  but 
only  under  distinct  provisions  for  adequate  public  regulation. 
Housing. — Housing  provides  conditions  favorable  or  un- 
favorable to  health,  morality,  domestic  content,  and  the  dignity 
and  joy  of  life.  The  most  successful  rival  to  the  saloon  and 
vicious  resorts  and  pleasures  is  the  home;  but  where  home  isi 
barren,  cheerless,  repulsive,  the  glittering  street,  the  "hang- 
out," and  the  "dive,"  claim  old  and  young.  None  can  reason- 
ably be  expected  to  spend  evenings,  holidays  or  Sundays 
in  such  habitations  as  those  which  multitudes  of  Americans 
call  home.  Only  the  presence  of  the  good  can  exclude  the 
bad ;  and  the  home  is  the  natural  center  of  life's  values  and 


88  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

life's  virtues.  It  should  be  the  most  joyous  of  all  places 
to  children  and  youth,  the  most  satisfying  to  middle  age, 
and  the  most  peaceful  to  declining  years.  But  dignity,  self- 
respect,  and  the  normal  gladness  which  is  the  natural  antidote 
for  moral  contagion  are  effectively  fostered  or  as  effectually 
prevented  by  material  surroundings.  They  do  not  gain  by 
extravagance  and  ostentation,  but  by  comfort  and  comeliness. 

In  many  a  tenement  sleep  in  hot  summer  weather  is  impos- 
sible till  late  at  night,  and  little  children  roam  the  sidewalks 
or  doze  in  parks.  Thousands  of  rooms  are  ventilated  only 
from  other  rooms,  from  hallways  or  from  narrow  airshafts, 
and  are  never  reached  by  the  rays  of  the  sun.  Here  the 
seeds  of  contagion  long  survive  and  the  air  itself  is  a  poison. 
Whole  families  live  in  two  small  rooms  and  there  wash,  cook, 
sleep,  bathe,  and  accommodate  lodgers  and  boarders.  An  in- 
vestigation made  some  time  ago  covering  six  blocks  in  the 
city  of  Chicago  found  that  43  per  cent,  of  the  inhabitants  of 
that  area  were  living  with  an  average  of  three  persons  to 
the  room.  A  study  of  1,600  families  comprising  6,800  persons, 
or  4.5  to  the  family,  found  that  the  average  floor  space  occu- 
pied per  family  was  less  than  12  by  24  feet.  Investigations  in 
several  cities  indicate  that,  as  a  rule,  families  that  live  in  a 
single  room  have  a  death  rate  eight  times  as  great  as  that 
of  the  population  in  general,  those  in  two  rooms  four  times 
as  great  and  those  in  three  rooms  twice  as  great.  The  mur- 
derous death  rate  among  the  poor  is  not  due  exclusively  to 
bad  housing,  but  to  that  and  its  natural  accompaniments. 

The  tenements  that  surround  the  suburban  factory  or  mine 
are  likely  to  be  ugly,  unshaded,  set  in  patches  of  weeds  and 
bare  ground,  without  proper  sanitation  or  conveniences.  La- 
borers in  an  industrial  suburb  which  is  near  to  a  city  and 
connected  to  it  by  street  cars  are  likely  to  live  in  the  city 
tenements,  while  on  the  other  hand  the  well-to-do  who  are 
engaged  in  business  in  the  city  reside  in  the  suburbs.  This  is 
because  with  money  and  taste  the  suburban  home  becomes 
charming  within  and  without  but  the  suburban  tenement  is 
likely  to  be  more  cheerless  than  the  city  slum,  because  howr 
ever  dismal  the  lodgings,  the  brightness  and  entertainment  of 


AMOUNT,  FORMS,  DISTRIBUTION  OF  WEALTH     89 

the  city  street  are  free.  Even  in  the  country  there  is  a  hous- 
ing problem.  In  the  newer  parts  of  America  farmers  live 
mainly  in  cheap  buildings  that  were  erected  before  the  land 
was  paid  for.  Our  rural  communities  are  mainly  new.  We 
can  hardly  be  said  to  have  developed  an  acceptable  type  of 
rural  architecture,  still  less  the  level  of  taste  that  is  ultimately 
to  go  far  toward  making  country  life  attractive  to  the  well- 
to-do  and  the  country  the  permanent  breeding-ground  for 
well  endowed  and  well  reared  citizens.  Instead  we  have  half- 
forgotten  the  simple  and  dignified  colonial  farm  house,  which 
with  widened  verandas  and  modern  conveniences  and  few 
expensive  moldings  should  be  revived. 

In  multitudes  of  cases  the  wretchedly  housed  pay  enough 
to  entitle  them  to  better  quarters.  It  is  often  said  that  the 
worst  tenements  are  the  most  profitable.  Left  to  unregu- 
lated competition  the  homes  of  laborers  are  bound  in  many 
cases  to  be  unfit  for  human  habitation. 

There  are  two  remedies  for  this:  First,  the  spirit  of 
human  brotherhood  leads  some  investors  to  be  content  with 
a  profit  of  from  four  to  six  per  cent.,  when  all  the  rent  that 
their  tenants  can  afford  to  pay  might  be  collected  from  in- 
ferior property,  representing  one-third  of  the  amount  which 
they  have  invested  in  providing  fit  human  habitations.  In  fact 
less  benevolent  landlords  collect  nearly  equal  rentals  from 
property  upon  which  little  actual  outlay  has  been  made  for 
many  years,  unless  for  inserting  partitions  to  divide  larger 
rooms  into  smaller  ones.  By  holding  for  rental  old  rookeries 
instead  of  constructing  new  sanitary  and  cheerful  tenements 
they  secure  from  the  amount  of  their  investment  double  or 
triple  the  rate  of  return  with  which  a  few  better-minded 
landlords  prefer  to  becontent. 

It  may  almost  be  set  down  as  a  general  principle  that 
experiments  in  social  amelioration  must  be  made  by  private 
agencies.  After  the  method  has  been  worked  out  and  its 
practicability  and  usefulness  demonstrated  by  voluntary  activ- 
ity, then  state  or  city  may  take  up  the  work.  This  has  been 
the  history  of  nearly  all  advance  movements  in  social  science 
that  have  ultimately  received  governmental  support.  It  is 


90  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

too  much  to  hope  that  an  adequate  supply  of  fit  abodes  will, 
in  the  near  future,  be  supplied  by  such  voluntary  activity  of 
real-estate  owners.  We  are  therefore  forced  to  the  second 
remedy,  government  action.  Competent  and  reliable  building 
inspectors  enforcing  intelligent  legislation  must  condemn 
hopelessly  unsanitary  buildings  and  enforce  their  improvement 
or  demolition.  As  much  depends  on  the  training,  trustworthi- 
ness and  social  spirit  of  the  inspectors  as  upon  the  laws; 
indeed  without  the  proper  officials  the  laws  will  be  of  little 
avail.  New  buildings  must  be  required  to  conform  to  regu- 
lations more  exacting  than  can  now  be  enforced  upon  struc- 
tures already  reared,  so  that  as  the  old  are  gradually  replaced 
the  standard  will  be  raised.  The  ordinances  of  great  cities 
relating  to  health  and  decency  must  create  building  zones 
such  as  are  already  created  by  the  law  relating  to  fire  protec- 
tion, so  that  conditions  that  must  inevitably  be  permitted  in 
the  most  congested  areas  will  not  be  introduced  in  newer  and 
more  fortunate  districts.  Smaller  villages  and '  cities  must 
not  borrow  their  standards  from  cities  where  real-estate 
values  are  exorbitant,  but  instead  must  defend  the  advan- 
tages made  possible  by  greater  spaciousness. 

Another  form  of  government  action  with  reference  to  the 
housing  problem,  or  of  cooperation  between  governmental 
and  private  action,  is  the  loaning  of  public  funds,  for  example, 
to  associations  that  build  for  rental  tenements  which  meet 
stipulated  requirements,  and  the  rental  of  which  shall  not 
exceed  a  specified  figure,  while  the  dividends  of  the  asso- 
ciation are  never  to  exceed  a  certain  percentage.1  Cooperative 
societies  independent  of  governmental  assistance  have  in  some 
instances  purchased  suburban  tracts  and  converted  them  into 
"garden  cities"  of  ideal  homes,  for  then;  members. 

Educating  the  Public  on  the  Subject  of  Housing. — Volun- 
tary and  compulsory  improvement  of  housing  conditions  may 
reenforce  each  other.  Housing  or  city-planning  societies 
founded  by  those  proprietors  who  take  a  proper  view  of  their 

1  The  plan  of  making  government  loans  has  been  in  operation  for 
years  in  Great  Britain  and  Germany,  and  is  at  present  advocated  for 
the  city  of  Washington,  D.  C. 


91 

obligations  can  affect  the  character  of  housing  laws  and, 
through  their  example  and  the  proof  which  they  afford  of  the 
practicability  of  better  things,  may  arouse  and  enlighten  public 
opinion  which  brings  a  useful  pressure  to  bear  upon  other 
landlords. 

One  of  the  serious  abuses  that  depress  the  home  condi- 
tions of  the  poor,  is  the  tendency  of  city  governments  to 
tolerate  inferior  paving,  grading,  walks,  lighting  and  street- 
cleaning  in  neighborhoods  inhabited  by  those  who  can 
provide  least  for  themselves.  This  need  not  be  attributed 
to  neartlessness  but  rather  to  heedlessness.  It  is  psycholog- 
ically natural,  just  as  it  is  natural  to  beautify  the  parlor 
and  tolerate  ugly  things'  in  the  garret  and  cellar,  but  it  is 
indefensible.  An  attempt  may  be  made  to  defend  it  on  the 
ground  that  the  poor  pay  little  in  taxes  and  that  those  who 
pay  most  should  receive  most  from  the  public  treasury.  But 
a  mile  of  vile  tenements  may  pay  more  taxes,  and  owing 
to  the  great  rental  they  yield,  may  be  more  valuable  than 
a  mile  of  good  residences.  And 'the  huddled  poor  pay  these 
taxes  every  cent,  not  directly  indeed,  but  the  final  incidence 
is  upon  their  shoulders.  Moreover,  they  receive  something 
less  than  their  due  share  in  the  proceeds  of  industry,  and  the 
business  of  government  is  not  to  render  worse  the  inequali- 
ties of  distribution  by  taking  from  the  poor  to  give  to  the 
rich,  but  instead  it  should  do  something  toward  restoring  the 
just  balance  in  its  application  of  that  portion  of  the  social 
income  which  it  exacts  in  taxes.  The  expediency  of  equal 
public  education  is  accepted,  and  the  example  of  good  "munici- 
pal housekeeping,"  of  clean  and  well  paved  and  well  lighted 
streets  and  alleys,  and  of  proper  parks  and  breathing  spaces 
in  those  sections  inhabited  by  people  having  the  lowest  stand- 
ard of  living,  who  are  mainly  immigrants,  is  an  important 
educational  agency.  And  good  sanitation  in  those  sections  of 
the  city  from  which  disease  is  most  likely  to  emanate  is 
demanded  by  common-sense. 

Bad  housing  conditions  are  not  wholly  to  be  attributed 
to  the  negligence  or  greed  of  the  landlord ;  there  is  also  fault 
to  be  found  with  the  tenant.  Many  are  accustomed  to  a, 


92  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

low  standard  of  living,  and  if  placed  in  a  model  tenement 
would  soon  make  it  unsightly,  unsanitary,  and  dilapidated. 
Good  housing  requires  the  active  cooperation  of  the  occu- 
pants. This  can  be  secured  only  as  a  result  of  education. 
Some  builders  of  "model  tenements"  have  offered  prizes  for 
good  housekeeping,  for  example,  the  stipulation  that  every 
apartment  maintained  at  a  given  standard  should  be  redec- 
orated throughout  at  stated  intervals.  Some  have  organized 
their  tenants  into  a  society  which  has  officers  and  regula- 
tions, and  made  proper  housekeeping  a  matter  of  group  in- 
terest and  group  pride.  Certain  employers  have  sought  to 
raise  the  technic  standard  of  their  industrial  settlement  by 
offering  prizes  for  the  best  backyard,  or  the  finest  flowers, 
have  secured  seeds  for  those  who  entered  the  contest,  and 
even  provided  lectures  by  a  landscape  gardener,  and  this  has 
in  some  cases  had  gratifying'results.  In  such  undertakings 
the  independence  of  the  laborers  should  be  jespected  and  pre- 
served. It  is  far  better  to  work  through  the  leading  members 
of  their  number  so  that  they  appoint  a  committee  to  secure 
seeds,  raise  funds,  conduct  their  competition,  and  all  the 
rest,  rather  than  to  have  the  employer  or  his  representative 
do  any  good  thing  that  the  men  can  be  stimulated  to  do 
themselves. 

Education  in  home-making  is  eminently  a  matter  of  neigh- 
borhood influence.  The  household  that  has  a  good  standard 
can  perpetuate  it  by  its  own  traditions,  but  to  communicate 
good  standards  to  those  who  lack  them,  including  masses  of 
immigrants  who  are  for  the  first  time  becoming  financially 
able  to  maintain  them,  we  depend  mainly  upon  the  formative 
power  of  the  neighborhood.  Landlords  and  employers  are 
not  the  only  leaders  who  have  endeavored  to  develop  within 
the  neighborhood  a  sentiment  for  better  home-making. 
Mothers'  clubs  associated  with  public  schools  have,  in  some 
instances,  proved  effective  in  this  direction.  And  the  social 
settlement  is  a  home  of  cultivated  people,  who  choose  to 
live  in  a  neglected  neighborhood  in  order,  by  their  example, 
and  by  the  development  of  various  neighborhood  activities,  to 
afford  suggestion,  encouragement,  and  helpful  influences,  cal- 


.  AMOUNT,  FORMS,  DISTRIBUTION  OF  WEALTH      93 

culated  to  foster  tastes,  ideals  and  ambitions  of  the  sort  that 
lead  toward  the  attainment  of  life's  values. 

Great  as  are  the  existing  evils  of  bad  housing,  Albert 
Shaw  declares  that  with  the  knowledge  and  experience  now 
acquired,  it  is  as  possible  to  wipe  out  the  slum  with  its  de- 
plorable physical  and  moral  effects,  as  to  drain  the  swamp  and 
be' rid  of  its  miasmas.  It  would  be  still  less  difficult  to  "head 
off  the  slum"  for  the  benefit  of  the  city-dwellers  who -soon 
will  double  our  present  urban  population. 

City  Planning. — With  the  urban  population  of  this  country 
doubling  in  a  generation  the  problem  of  city  planning  be- 
comes one  of  intense  practical  interest.  Shall  the  evils  of 
bad  housing,  inconvenience  and  ugliness  go  on  doubling,  or 
shall  we  "head  off  the  slum"?  (i)  The  location  of  factory 
sites,  railroad  terminals  and  sidings,  zones  of  costlier  and  less 
costly  dwellings,  public  parks  and  playgrounds,  public  build- 
ings, and  lines  of  intramural  transportation,  can  be  made  to 
follow  a  well  laid  plan  for  the  promotion  of  prosperity,  con- 
venience, and  social  welfare,  rather  than  the  temporary  pri- 
vate interests  of  promoters  who  wish  to  affect  the  values  of 
their  holdings  of  real  estate,  or  the  more  or  less  accidental 
selections  of  private  industry.  (2)  Some  of  the  suburban 
areas  soon  to  be  built  up  might  be  purchased  by  the  munici- 
palities, as  is  done  in  Germany,  provided  the  municipality 
has  sufficient  public  spirit  and  social  intelligence  to  secure 
by  democratic  methods  such  good  administration  as  is  more 
easily  obtained  under  oligarchical  control.  Then  the  sale  of 
land  by  the  municipality  would  socialize  the  unearned  incre- 
ment, diminish  tax  rates,  and  furnish  a  fund  for  municipal 
improvements  in  the  newly  urbanized  additions. 

Even  if  the  German  method  of  city  planning  and  municipal 
ownership  of  real  estate  is  not  followed,  the  city  plans  can 
be  developed  and  owners  who  open  suburban  tracts  can  be 
compelled  to  conform  to  intelligent  requirements  before  their 
streets  will  be  accepted  or  connected  with  the  municipal  sewer, 
water  and  lighting  system,  or  even  before  the  deeds  they  give 
will  be  legally  recorded  and  defended. 

The  application  of  city  planning  to  areas  already  built 


94  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

up  is  more  costly  and  necessarily  limited  in  results,  yet  it  is 
by  no  means  to  be  neglected.  The  essential  matters  are,- 
first,  that  the  designs  be  expert,  both  in  the  practical  and  the 
esthetic  features,  and  second,  that  public  opinion  be  suffi- 
ciently enlisted  in  their  realization.  Ever  so  good  a  blue- 
print is  only  the  smaller  part  of  the  undertaking;  the  social 
problem  of  instructing  opinion,  arousing  sentiment,  and  organ- 
izing activity  is  the  greater  factor  in  the  enterprise  of  improv- 
ing a  village  or  city. 

Municipal  Conveniences. — Streets,  sewers,  waterworks 
and  lighting  systems  are  forms  of  wealth  which  affect  social 
welfare  so  vitally  that  they  are  usually  provided  *by  public 
agency.  There  are  numerous  other  material  conveniences 
which  are  highly  important  to  the  general  welfare,  and  likely 
to  be  inadequately  supplied  or  subject  to  special  abuses  it  left 
to  private  enterprise,  which  have  been  successfully  furnished 
by  municipalities. 

Municipal  laundries  are  established  in  many  European 
cities,  and  help  to  relieve  the  bad  housing  conditions  of  the 
poor.  In  a  tiny  cramped  tenement  the  washings  are  serious 
obstacles  to  home  life.  A  public  laundry,  where  for  a  few 
cents  scientific  machinery  for  washing,  drying,  and  ironing 
can  be  used,  is  a  boon  to  the  tenement-dwellers. 

Public  bathhouses  promote  health,  comfort  and  decency. 
Municipal  markets  promote  convenience,  economy  and  health. 
Municipal  slaughterhouses  benefit  the  farmer  and  the  con- 
sumer, reduce  the  needless  freighting  and  storing  of  cattle 
and  of  meats  with  their  cruelties  and  losses,  and  prevent  the 
control  of  prices  by  a  central  trust. 

Various  forms  of  municipalized  wealth  are  implied  in  the 
discharge  of  municipal  services.  Some  cities  provide  municipal 
crematories  and  even  municipal  undertaking,  which  are  de- 
signed to  economize  land,  promote  sanitation,  and  prevent 
exploitation ;  also  municipal  pawnshops  as  a  cure  for  the  loan- 
shark  evil ;  also  municipal  employment  agencies ;  and  municipal 
theaters  as  part  of  the  educational  as  well  as  recreational  sys- 
tem. Municipal  dance-halls  have  been  successfully  introduced 
in  this  country. 


AMOUNT,  FORMS,  DISTRIBUTION  OF  WEALTH      95 

In  order  that  the  municipal  corporation  may  fulfill  its 
possibilities  of  usefulness  it  is  necessary  to  divorce  municipal 
affairs  from  state  and  party  politics.  Municipal  elections 
separate  from  state  elections,  "citizens  tickets,"  "the  short 
ballot"  in  city  elections,  the  "commission  form  of  govern- 
ment" and  "the  municipal  business  manager"  are  measures 
intended  to  secure  this  separation,  and  to  concentrate  respon- 
sibility. 

In  Germany  when  a  city  wants  a  mayor,  it  advertises 
far  and  wide  for  the  best  man  obtainable  who  has  passed 
the  necessary  state  examination  for  mayors.1 

Relation  of  the  Distribution  of  Wealth  to  Sociological  Prob- 
lems.— The  causes  that  affect  the  distribution  of  wealth  are 
studied  by  economics.  But  the  social  effects  that  flow  from  the 
distribution  of  wealth  it  is  a  task  of  sociology  to  trace.  Mor& 
over,  as  we  shall  later  see,  "economic  laws"  only  partly  stati; 
the  causes  of  distribution.  Not  only  are  "value,  wages  and 
interest  essentially  social  phenomena,"  2  but  such  social  reali- 
ties as  custom  and  law  supplement  and  modify  the  operation 
of  economic  causes  in  determining  the  distribution  of  wealth. 

1  The  training  school  for  municipal  service  at  Cologne  during  the 
winter  semester  of  1912-13  offered  the  following  courses : 

1.  Civics  17.  Fire  Insurance 

2.  Law  18.  Hygiene 

3.  Administrative  Law  19.  City  Planning 

4.  Local  Ordinances  20.  Schools  (2  Courses) 

5.  Civil  Processes  21.  Ecology  and  Topography 

6.  Political  Economy  22.  Chemical  Industries 

7.  Credit  Exchange  23.  Iron  Machine  Industry 

8.  Taxation  24.  Coal  and  Mining 

9.  Finance  25.  Electro-Technique 

10.  Statistics  26.  Agricultural  Management 

11.  Inspection  Methods  27.  Rhenish  and  Westphalian  Eco- 

12.  Labor  Legislation  nomic  Development 

13.  Labor  Unions  and  Societies  28.  Art  and  History  of  the  Rhine- 

14.  Social  Insurance  Land 

15.  Welfare  Work  29.  Paris  and  Her  Romance 

16.  Social  Questions 

2  J.  B.  Clark :     The  Distribution  of  Wealth.    Macmillan,  1899,  p.  40. 


96  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

We  have  seen  that  material  "goods"  are  only  relative  or 
secondary  goods,  that  is,  means  by  which  to  secure  or  pro- 
mote human  experiences,  which  are  the  only  real  and  ultimate 
goods.  But  since  material  means  are  employed  in  the  service 
of  every  kind  of  human  aim  therefore  the  distribution  of 
wealth  affects  the  distribution  of  the  real  goods  of  life  of 
whatever  kind.  It  does  not  follow  that  the  more  wealth  one 
has  the  more  of  good  experiences  one  will  have,  for  good 
experience  does  not  depend  on  wealth  alone,  but  on  other 
conditions  also,  such  as  health,  morality,  culture,  and  friends, 
in  the  absence  of  which  wealth  may  increase  without  the  in- 
crease of  life's  real  values.  Moreover,  the  amount  of  wealth 
required  for  the  highest  realization  of  life's  values  is  limited, 
and  it  may  be  increased  to  the  point  of  being  a  cause  of  evil 
and  not  a  means  of  good.  Yet  a  certain  amount  of  material 
means  is  necessary  to  life  itself  and  to  every  kind  of  good 
in  life,  so  that  within  the  limits  suggested  .the  distribution 
of  wealth  directly  affects  the  distribution  of  life's  real  values 
among  the  people  composing  a  society.  This  we  must  observe 
in  some  detail. 

Effects  of  Distribution  of  Wealth  upon  the  Health  of  the 
People. — Health,  or  desirable  physical  experience,  which  is 
both  an  end  in  itself  and  also  a  necessary  means  of  all  other 
good  ends,  depends  upon  the  possession  of  a  certain  moderate 
amount  of  wealth.1 

(i)  The  poor  usually  live  in  sunless,  or  ill  ventilated  or 
overcrowded,  or  otherwise  unsanitary  tenements  and  neigh- 
borhoods. (2)  They  use  the  less  digestible  and  less  nutritious 
foods,  including  impure  and  ill-kept  milk  for  their  babies. 
(3)  They  often  lack  waterproof  shoes  and  clothing  for  wet 
weather,  and  warm  clothing  for  cold  weather;  they  suffer 
excessively  from  colds.  (4)  They  do  not,  promptly  upon 
the  appearance  of  need,  employ  first-rate  medical  attendance. 

1Here  as  everywhere  else  we  are  using  the  word  wealth  not  in  its 
popular  sense,  to  denote  great  possessions,  but  in  its  scientific  sense  to 
denote  any  salable  material  commodities  adapted  to  human  uses  in 
whatever  amount. 


AMOUNT,  FORMS,  DISTRIBUTION  OF  WEALTH      97 

(5)  They  are  employed  in  monotonous  indoor  occupations 
before  they  have  attained  their  growth.  (6)  They  are  de- 
prived of  adequate  mothering,  because  mothers  can  employ 
no  household  help,  and  the  mothers  themselves  are  very  fre- 
quently employed,  both  immediately  before  the  birth  of  their 
children,  to  the  injury  of  the  latter,  and  afterwards.  (7)  By 
reason  of  impaired  vitality,  monotonous  and  uninteresting 
labor,  and  dreary  abodes,  they  lack  natural  cheer,  and  crave 
the  artificial  counterfeit  of  cheer  afforded  by  stimulants.  (8) 
For  the  same  reasons  and  because  wholesome  joys  are  but 
little  within  their  reach,  while  from  childhood  they  live  where 
they  are  forced  to  become  acquainted  with  every  form 
of  vice,  and  are  continually  exposed  to  the  solicitations  of 
commercialized  vicious  pleasures,  they  are  subject  to  the 
ravages  of  vice,  though  they  are  far  from  having  any  monopoly 
of  its  evils.  (9)  They  frequently  labor  amid  chemical  fumes 
or  in  air  laden  with  dust  or  under  conditions  otherwise  ex- 
ceedingly unsanitary.  Nature  as  a  rule  does  not  indefinitely 
continue  a  futile  protest,  and1  so  men  can  "get  used"  to  con- 
ditions so  bad  that  those  who  labor  under  such  conditions 
are  foredoomed  to  physical  deterioration.  (10)  They  are 
maimed  and  killed  by  accidents  in  mines,  on  railroads,  and 
among  the  machinery  of  factories.  Industrial  accidents  in 
this  country  are  said  to  reach  half  a  million  annually,  a  number 
exceeding  the  annual  number  of  casualties  in  both  armies  of 
the  great  war  between  North  and  South,  added  to  those  of  the 
Russo-Japanese  War.  These  accidents  are  largely  preventable. 
As  insurance  rates  and  losses  by  fire  can  be  diminished  one- 
half  by  proper  precautions  against  fire,  so  also  might  be 
diminished  the  number  of  industrial  accidents,  and  the  poverty 
and  physical  and  moral  ruin  of  laborers'  families  consequent 
upon  such  accidents.1 

1J.  T.  Arlidge:     Diseases  of  Occupations.     Percival,  London,  1892. 

Thomas  Oliver:  Diseases  of  Occupations.  Methuen,  London, 
1908. 

Massachusetts  State  Board  of  Health  Reports — 1905,   1907. 

A.  G.  Warner:  American  Charities.  Revised  edition,  r>owell, 
1908,  chap,  iv. 


98  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

From  such  causes  as  these  it  results  that  the  death  rate 
among  the  poor  is  approximately  doubled  as  compared  with 
that  among  the  well-to-do,  and  the  death  rate  among  the 
children  of  the  poor  under  five  years  of  age  more  than 
doubled.1 

The  death  rate  among  adult  unskilled  laborers  is  about 
double  that  among  the  professional  classes.  Perhaps  worse 
yet  is  the  fact  that  the  number  of  days  of  sickness  in  pro- 
portion to  the  number  of  days  of  health  is  between  fifty 
and  one  hundred  per  cent,  greater  among  the  laboring  than 
among  the  professional  class.  It  is  estimated  that  there  are 
at  all  times  about  3,000,000  persons  seriously  ill  in  the  United 

Robert  Hunter:     Poverty.     Macmillan,  1904,  chap.  iv. 

Scott  Nearing:  Social  Adjustment.  Macmillan,  1911,  chaps,  iv 
and  x-xiv. 

Irving  Fisher:  National  Vitality — Its  Wastes  and  Conservation. 
U.  S.  Govt.  Printing  Office,  1910. 

xThis  subject  calls  for  governmental  investigation.  Our  knowledge 
is  inexact,  but  is  sufficient  to  show  the  presence  of  an  unthinkable  waste 
of  human  life.  Emma  Duke,  in  .a  report  on  Infant  Mortality  in  Johns- 
town, Pa.,  published  for  the  United  States  Children's  Bureau  by  the 
Government  Printing  Office,  page  45,  makes  statements  based  upon  a 
study  of  1,463  babies,  of  whom  196  died  within  the  first  year,  to  the 
effect  that  of  all  live  babies  born  in  wedlock  there  die  within  the  first 
year  a  proportion  equal  130.7  to  every  thousand ;  of  live  babies  born  to 
fathers  showing  no  evidence  of  actual  poverty  the  proportion  dying  in 
the  first  year  is  equal  only  to  84  per  thousand ;  while  of  live  babies  born 
to  fathers  earning  less  than  $520  per  year,  or  $10  per  week  for  52 
weeks,  the  proportion  dying  within  the  first  year  is  equal  to  255.7  per 
thousand.  See  also  W.  B.  Bailey:  Modern  Social  Conditions, 
Century  Co.,  1906,  pp.  246-254  >  and  John  Spargo:  The  Bitter  Cry 
of  the  Children.  Macmillan,  1906,  p.  7  seq.  He  says :  "As  we 
ascend  the  social  scale  the  span  .of  life  lengthens  and  the  death 
rate  gradually  diminishes,  the  death  rate  of  the  poorest  class  of 
workers  being  three  and  one-half  times  [I  have  said  approximately 
double]  as  great  as  that  of  the  well-to-do.  Arthur  Newsholme  (Vital 
Statistics.  Swan  Sonnershein,  1899,  p.  163,  quoted  by  Irving  Fisher: 
National  Vitality.  Government  Printing  Office,  1910,  p.  644)  states  that 
in  Glasgow  in  1885  the  death  rate  of  occupants  of  one-  and  two-room 
cottages  was  27.7,  and  among  occupants  of  houses  having  five  or  more 
rooms  it  was  11.2  per  thousand.  Lavasseur  is  quoted  by  Fisher  as  giv- 
ing a  death  rate  of  13.4  to  16,2  for  the  rich  quarters  of  Paris  and  31.3 


AMOUNT,  FORMS,  DISTRIBUTION  OF  WEALTH      99 

States.  At  the  same  time  sickness  for  the  poor  is  even  more 
dreadful  than  for  the  well-to-do.  Daily  great  numbers  of 
the  sick  poor  drag  themselves  to  tasks  beyond  their  strength, 
preventing  the  chance  of  recovery.  They  often  labor  till 
within  a  few  days  of  death,  for  they  have  no  resources  upon 
which  to  retire  from  work,  and  in  the  last  extremity  they 
and  theirs  in  great  numbers  become  dependent  upon  charity. 
And  sickness  in  the  tenements  is  not  like  sickness  in  a  quiet, 
sunny,  flower-cheered  room,  with  skillful  attendance,  and 
with  dainties  to  sustain  the  strength  and  to  coax  the  capri- 
cious appetite.  The  enhancing  of  distress  in  all  the  junc- 
tures of  greatest  physical  pain  that  befall  men  or  women  or 
children  among  the  poor  is  pathetic  and  horrible. 

Charity  beds  in  hospitals,  free  dispensaries,  visiting  nurses 
and  fresh  air  charities  for  children,  relieve  this  distress  only 
to  a  degree. 

Not  only  does  poverty  cause  sickness,  but  sickness  causes 
poverty.  The  livelihood  of  the  poor  is  pitifully  dependent 
upon  the  precarious  health  of  their  breadwinners.  The  occur- 

f or  the  quarter  of  Menilmontant.  See  additional  figures  in  Fisher : 
loc.  cit.  Richmond  Mayo-Smith :  Sociology  and  Statistics,  Macmillan, 
1896,  pp.  164-165;  and  Amos  G.  Warner  (American  Charities,  revised, 
Crowell,  1908,  p.  127)  reproduce  the  figures  of  Dr.  Ogle,  showing  that 
the  death  rates  for  different  occupations  vary  from  a  rate  represented 
by  100  for  clergymen  to  308  for  street  sellers,  331  for  Cornish  miners, 
397  for  inn  servants.  B.  S.  Rowntree  (Poverty,  a  Study  in  Town  Life, 
Macmillan,  1902,  p.  198  seq.)  states  that  in  the  poorest  section  of  the 
city  of  York,  England,  having  a  population  of  6,803,  of  whom  69.3  per 
cent,  were  in  poverty,  the  death  rate  was  27.78  per  thousand,  the  death 
rate  of  children  under  five  years  of  age  was  13.96  per  thousand  of  total 
population,  and  the  mortality  of  children  under  one  year  amounted  to 
247  out  of  every  thousand  children  born.  In  the  section  inhabited  by 
middle-class  laborers,  having  a  population  of  9,945,  in  which  37  per  cent, 
of  the  residents  were  in  poverty,  the  death  rate  was  20.71.  The  death 
rate  among  children  under  five  years  of  age  10.50,  and  the  proportion 
born  who  died  within  the  first  twelve  months  184.  In  the  section  inhab- 
ited by  the  best  class  of  laborers  the  general  death  rate  was  13.49,  the 
death  rate  of  the  children  under  five  years  6,  and  the  proportion  of  chil- 
dren dying  within  the  first  twelve  months  173,  while  among  the  ser- 
vant-keeping class  in  York  the  proportion  of  infants  dying  in  their  first 
year  was  94  per  thousand. 


too  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

rence  of  sickness  or  of  maiming  accident  plunges  them  into 
economic  distress.  Loss  of  health  is  the  most  constant  of  all 
the  causes  of  extreme  poverty  and  is  directly  responsible  for 
something  like  a  fifth  or  a  quarter  of  that  miserable  poverty 
which  becomes  dependent  upon  charity  and  which  suffers  the 
distress  that  follows  when  the  customary  standard  of  living, 
however  low,  can  no  longer  be  maintained.  The  physical 
disability  of  old  age  is  probably  the  only  direct  cause  of 
poverty  which  exceeds  it. 

Poverty  Is  Effective  in  Preventing  the  Attainment  of  the 
Ethical  and  Cultural  Values  of  Life. — The  child  whose  mother 
answers  the  factory  whistle  at  dawn,  whose  frontyard  is  the 
street,  whose  backyard  is  the  alley,  and  whose  home  is  two 
or  three  crowded  rooms  up  the  stairway  of  a  tenement  inhab- 
ited by  honest  laborers,  striving  for  decency,  and  by  deb- 
auchees and  prostitutes,  is  in  a  poor  way  to  attain  the  finest 
traits  or  realize  the  most  elevating  joys  of  life.  The  ambi- 
tion and  energy  of  such  a  boy  may  be  the  measure  of  his 
misconduct  and  of  the  swiftness  of  his  destruction.  As  one 
has  wisely  and  wittily  expressed  it,  the  very  same  motives 
that  cause  the  son  of  more  fortunate  birth  to  imitate  his  father 
and  George  Washington  cause  this  child  to  imitate  his  father 
and  Blinkey  Morgan.  It  has  been  said  that  many  a  boy 
in  America  grows  up  where  he  has  no  more  chance  of  de- 
veloping a  normal  conscience  than  he  has  of  learning  the 
Chinese  language. '  At  a  tender  age  the  child  has  learned  the 
language  of  his  environment  whether  it  be  the  refined  instru- 
ment of  culture,  or  rude,  coarse,  and  unclean,  the  vehicle  of 
degradation.  And  by  the  time  he  has  learned  his  language 
he  has  largely  acquired  the  approvals,  admirations,  and  detesta- 
tions that  will  shape  his  conduct,  and  has  failed  to  acquire 
those  that  in  another  environment  might  have  shaped  it.  The 
swaggering  tough,  the  sybarite,  the  safe-blower,  the  ward  boss, 
can  be  as  genuinely  admired  and  ardently  emulated  as  other 
types  of  success. 

It  is  by  no  means  the  very  poor  alone  nor  the  denizens 
of  the  city  slums,  but  also  the  moderately  poor  and  the 
residents  of  village  and  hamlet  who  commonly  lack  a  thor- 


AMOUNT,  FORMS,  DISTRIBUTION  OF  WEALTH     101 

oughly  civilizing  environment.  Fathers  and  mothers  are  likely 
to  be  too  busy  and  hard  worked ;  they  themselves  have  not 
learned  from  their  own  parents  the  ideals  of  child-rearing 
and  of  home  atmosphere  which  are  the  truest  tests  of  civiliza- 
tion; their  fireside  is  not  attractive  enough  to  compete  success- 
fully with  the  street,  the  livery  stable,  the  rendezvous.  Boys 
and  girls  who  are  properly  provided  with  juvenile  literature, 
and  who  live  in  an  atmosphere  of  courtesy  and  of  home  pleas- 
ures, where  work  and  conversation  alike  objectify  generous 
ideals,  these  have  a  heritage  of  moral  and  cultural  health, 
while  many  grow  up  in  an  atmosphere  of  moral  and  cultural 
miasma.  The  poor  man  has  not  money  enough  to  properly 
equip  and  maintain  home  life,  but  hands  on  to  his  offspring 
the  lack  of  culture  and  the  low  ethical  standards  which  the 
poverty  of  his  own  parents  bequeathed  to  him. 

This  must  not  be  taken  to  mean  that  every  poor  man  is 
coarse  or  bad.  On  the  contrary,  personal  excellence  is  often 
maintained  under  unfavorable  conditions.  But  it  does  mean 
that  the  moral  and  cultural  handicap  of  poverty  is  heavy 
and  thousands  cannot  bear  up  against  it.  The  poor  cannot 
freely  choose  their  home  surroundings.  It  is  true  that  vice 
often  sinks  into  poverty,  and  from  this  it  results  that  those 
who  are  poor  for  other  causes  are  compelled  to  associate 
with  those  made  poor  by  vice ;  and  the  children  of  the  poor, 
whatever. the  cause  of  the  poverty  of  their  parents,  are  early 
familiarized  with  moral  degradation. 

It  may  be  said  that  the  school  must  furnish  the  elements 
of  personal  education.  But  the  school  cannot  replace  the 
home,  nor  adequately  offset  demoralizing  influences  surround- 
ing the  hours  of  play.  Moreover  the  children  of  the  very 
poor  go  to  school  but  too  little. 

According  to  the  last  report  of  the  Commissioner  of  Edu- 
cation *  the  number  of  pupils  receiving  education  in  the  first 
eight  grades  during  the  year  1914  was  19,057,948,  and  the  num- 
ber in  the  second  eight  grades,  that  is,  in  the  high  schools,  col- 
leges and  professional  schools  during  the  same  year  was  only 
1,718,876.  In  1910,  20,000  permits  to  quit  school  for  labor 

1  Report  of  the  U.  S.  Commissioner  of  Education  for  1914,  pp.  2-8. 


102  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

were  issued  to  children  in  Chicago.  Of  these  2,918  are 
known  to  have  joined  the  ranks  of  labor  on  the  first  day 
after  attaining  the  legal  age  of  fourteen,  and  2,413  had  not 
reached  the  fifth  grade.  Labor  laws  that  prescribe  any  educa- 
tional standard  to  be  met  by  children  before  they  can  leave 
school  for  work  generally  require  only  that  they  be  able  to 
read  simple  printed  matter,  and  write,  though  incorrectly, 
simple  sentences.  A  large  proportion  of  the  very  poor  do  not 
go  beyond  the  fourth  or  fifth  grade.  This  is  not  necessarily 
due  to  lack  of  natural  ability.  It  is  largely  due  to  lack  of 
the  backing  which  the  family,  by  its  influence,  can  give  to 
the  schools  and  which  many  poor  families  do  give.  And  it  is 
largely  due  to  the  fact  that  the  children  of  the  very  poor  are 
frequently  in  no  physical  condition  to  profit  fully  by  the  meager 
schooling  received.  Hundreds  of  them  go  to  school  either 
with  no  breakfast,  or  a  breakfast  of  baker's  bread  and  coffee. 
For  lack  of  proper  medical  attention,  eyes,  teeth,  hearing 
and  breathing  apparatus  are  often  so  defective  as  to  handicap 
their  work. 

In  one  school  in  Chicago  55  per  cent,  of  the  pupils  in  the 
fifth  grade  are  already  working  and  earn  an  average  weekly 
wage  of  $1.18;  35  per  cent,  of  those  in  the  fourth  grade  are 
working,  and  earn  an  average  weekly  wage  of  85  cents.  Fif- 
teen per  cent,  of  those  in  the  second  grade  are  working  for  an 
average  weekly  wage  of  43  cents,  and  12  per  cent,  of  those  in 
the  first  grade  are  devoting  a  portion  of  their  leisure  to 
industry  from  which  they  derive  an  average  weekly  income 
of  36  cents.  Besides  spending  the  regular  twenty-five  hours  a 
week  in  school  one  of  those  boys  works  over  fifty  hours  a 
week,  four  over  forty  hours  a  week,  seven  over  thirty  hours 
a  week,  and  eighteen  over  twenty  hours  a  week.1  These 
children  are  frequently  employed  in  demoralizing  as  well  as 
health-destroying  occupations.  The  street  trades  are  a  curse 
of  the  childhood  .of  the  poor.  Little  girls  peddle  gum  on  the 
streets  until  midnight.  Boys  serving  as  messengers  are  some- 
times sent  to  the  most  abhorrent  resorts  of  vice  and  become 

1  Chicago  Child  Welfare  Exhibit  of  1911. 


AMOUNT,  FORMS,  DISTRIBUTION  OF  WEALTH    103 

familiarized  with  the  post-graduate  degrees  of  debauchery  and 
degradation. 

The  poor  are  obliged  largely  to  forego  life's  normal  pleas- 
ures. These  cannot  be  provided  by  the  average  laborer  who 
attempts  to  support  a  family  upon  his  wages.  The  pleasures 
accessible  and  attractive  to  the  uneducated  laborer,  young  or 
old,  are  not  only  meager  but  likely  to  be  demoralizing.  There 
are  no  statistics  that  reveal  the  death  rate  of  the  souls  of  the 
poor,  but  there  is  no  doubt  that  thousands  upon  thousands  go 
down  in  blight  and  ruin  who  in  another  environment  would 
have  come  to  blossoming  and  worth.  Not  that  any  human  soul 
is  without  some  spark  of  nobleness,  not  that  the  most  disinher- 
ited life  is  without  gleams  of  cheer,  not  but  that  there  can  be 
found  many  who  amid  adverse  conditions  have  come  in  contact 
with  some  ennobling  influence  or  responded  with  native  inspira- 
tion to  life's  hard  demands,  but  that  among  the  tens  of  thou- 
sands who  become  debased  or  who  live  lives  of  wretchedness 
and  misery,  among  the  sixty  or  a  hundred  thousand  tramps  who 
roam  our  land,  and  the  women  and  children  they  have  deserted, 
and  among  the  three  hundred  thousand  more  or  less  who  are  in 
prisons,  jails,  and  lockups  in  the  United  States,  among  the  four 
million  who  it  is  estimated  apply  for  some  form  of  charity  each 
year,  many  of  whom  are  so  thriftless,  devitalized,  broken  in 
body,  and  unformed  in  character  that  we  are  tempted  to  brand 
them  "the  unworthy  poor,"  and  among  that  multitude  who  fre- 
quent the  tawdry  and  dirty  haunts  of  vice  -or  lie  in  crowded, 
uncheered  sickrooms,  there  are  a  vast  number,  who,  so  far  as 
hereditary  capacity  is  concerned,  are  just  as  good  as  we. 
Neither  is  it  true  at  the  other  extreme  that  all  the  rich  are 
cultured  and  virtuous. 

Actual  Distribution  of  Wealth,  in  the  United  States. — No 
one  knows  exactly  how  the  wealth  of  any  nation  is  distrib- 
uted. On  this  subject  only  estimates  are  available  and  they 
must  be  regarded  with  great  caution.  One  of  the  most 
intelligent  estimates  that  has  been  made  for  the  United  States 
was  published  by  Dr.  Charles  B.  Spahr  in  1896.  According 
to  that  estimate  "seven-eighths  of  the  families  hold  but  one- 
eighth  of  the  national  wealth,  while  one  per  cent,  of  the  fam- 


104  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

ilies  hold  more  than  the  remaining  ninety-nine."  *  And  while 
"the  general  distribution  of  incomes  in  the  United  States  is 
wider  and  better  than  in  most  of  the  countries  of  western 
Europe  .  .  .  one-eighth  of  the  families  in  America  receive 
more  than  half  of  the  aggregate  income,  and  the  richest  one  per 
cent,  receives  a  larger  income  than  the  poorest  fifty  per  cent. 
In  fact,  this  small  class  of  wealthy  property  owners  receives 
from  property  alone  as  large  an  income  as  half  our  people 
receive  from  property  and  labor." 2  Mulhall  in  England 
watched  for  a  series  of  years  the  transfer  of  estates  through 
probating  of  wills,  and  concluded  that  four-fifths  of  the 
property  of  England  was  held  by  one-sixty-seventh  of  the 
adult  population  of  England.  The  most  recent  estimate  on 
this  subject  is  that  of  Dr.  W.  I.  King.  He  states 3  that  65 
per  cent,  of  the  people  of  the  United  States  are  poor,  in  the 
sense  that  they  possess  no  property  beyond  a  little  furniture, 
clothing  and  personal  effects ;  fifteen  per  cent,  belong  to  the 
lower  middle  class  having  a  little  property,  perhaps  on  the 
average  a  thousand  dollars'  worth ;  eighteen  per  cent,  compose 
the  upper  middle  class,  or  well-to-do,  having  property  worth 
from  $2,000  to  $40,000;  while  two  per  cent,  are  rich.  These 
two  per  cent,  own  about  three-fifths  of  the  property. 

It  appears  that  in  1900  there  was  no  marked  difference 
in  the  distribution  of  wealth  in  France,  Prussia,  Massachusetts 
and  Wisconsin.  But  in  England,  under  the  law  of  primogeni- 
ture, the  concentration  of  wealth  is  exaggerated.  This,  Dr. 
King  regards  as  an  illustration  of  the  fact  that  differences  in 
laws  result  in  differences  in  the  distribution  of  wealth,  and 
that  "a  modification  of  the  laws  of  a  nation  might  bring -into 
being  a  division  of  riches  of  a  radically  different  nature."4 

The  distribution  of  income  is  always  less  unequal  than 
the  distribution  of  accumulated  wealth.  The  laborer  may  be 

1  C.  B.  Spahr :    The  Present  Distribution  of  Wealth  in  the  United 
States.     Crowell  &  Co.,   1896,  p.  69. 
3  Ibid.,  p.  129. 

*  The  Wealth  and  Income  of  the   People  of  the  United   States, 
Macmillan,  1915,  pp.  78  to  82. 

*  Ibid.,  p.  92. 


AMOUNT,  FORMS,  DISTRIBUTION  OF  WEALTH    105 

without  property,  but  his  wages  are  an  income.  However, 
the  inequalities  of  income  are  great  and  of  tremendous  social 
significance.  Dr.  King  states  that  the  fraction  of  the  total 
income  of  the  United  States  "going  to  labor  has,  of  recent 
years,  been  falling  off  despite  the  efforts  of  labor  unions  and 
combinations,"  1  and  that  the  concentration  of  wealth  is  now 
somewhat  greater  than  Dr.  Spahr  estimated  it  to  be  in  1896. 
According  to  the  estimates  of  Dr.  King,  "since  1896,  there  has 
occurred  a  marked  concentration  of  income  in  the  hands  of  the 
very  rich ;  the  poor  have,  relatively,  lost  but  little ;  but  the  mid- 
dle class  has  been  the  principal  sufferer."  2 

These  conclusions  are  no  longer  so  surprising  when  we 
compare  the  rate  of  accumulation  among  different  classes. 
The  pyramid  of  Cheops  is  popularly  said  to  have  been  built 
about  twenty-five  hundred  years  before  Christ.  If  a  man  had 
earned  ten  thousand  dollars  a  year  from  that  time  until  the 
birth  of  Christ,  and  continued  to  do  so  every  year  of  the 
briefer  period  that  has  elapsed  since  the  beginning  of  the 
Christian  era,  and  had  saved  every  cent  of  it,  his  earnings, 
without  interest,  would  now  amount  to  forty-five  millions  of 
dollars.  Andrew  Carnegie  is  said  to  have  retired  with  three 
hundred  and  seventy-five  millions,  or  more  than  eight  times 
that  amount.  According  to  statements  brought  out  in  the 
course  of  a  legal  trial,  the  fortune  of  Mr.  Rockefeller  amounted 
to  $900,0x30,000  in  1912.  He  began  a  poor  man  but  acquired 
a  large  measure  of  control  over  a  great  industry  and  a  great 
natural  resource.  To  accumulate  such  a  sum  at  the  rate  of 

'Ibid.,  p.  163. 

2  Ibid.,  p.  231.  Adams  and  Sumner:  Labor  Problems.  Macmillan, 
1905.  Chap,  xiii  on  "The  Material  Progress  of  the  Wage  Earning 
Classes,"  summarizes  the  evidence  that  although  their  relative  position 
as  compared  with  that  of  a  very  rich  man  has  declined,  yet  the  laborers 
are  not  without  some  share  in  the  fruits  of  progress.  See  the  last  part 
of  that  chapter,  section  on  "The  Concentration  of  Wealth,"  p.  532  and 
following,  especially  p.  536  and  following  and  conclusion  of  the  same 
p.  544  and  following.  Compare  also  R.  T.  Ely:  Evolution  of  Indus- 
trial  Society.  Macmillan  Co.,  1903,  pp.  255-270;  'Anna  Youngman: 
Growth  of  Large  Fortunes.  The  Bankers'  Publishers  Co.,  1909;  Geo. 
P.  Watkins :  "Economic  Causes  of  Large  Fortunes"  in  Proceedings  of 
American  Economic  Association,  viii,  No.  4. 


106  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

$10,000  a  year  would  require  90,000  years  or  20  times  the. 
ages  that  have  elapsed  since  2500  B.  c.  A  person  having  a 
hundred  millions  of  dollars  yielding  five  per  cent.,  or  five 
millions  a  year,  would  have  an  annual  income  equal  to  the 
accumulation  of  five  centuries  at  ten  thousand  dollars  a  year, 
and  if  he  were  to  spend  a  thousand  dollars  an  hour  ten  hours 
a  day  every  day  of  the  year  including  Sundays  and  holidays, 
at  the  end  of  the  year  $1,350,000  of  that  year's  income  would 
remain  unspent. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  average  earnings  of  all  American 
wage-earners  in  1900  was  about  $400  per  year.  This  includes 
laboring  women  and  children,  but  one-half  the  adult  male 
population  engaged  in  manufacturing  in  1900  received  less  than 
$480  each,  and  at  least  one-half  of  the  adult  male  wage-earners 
of  the  United  States,  in  all  industries,  earned  less  than  $436 
each  in  the  year  1900.  Both  wages  and  the  prices  of  the  nec- 
essaries of  life  have  advanced  since  the  census  on  which 
these  figures  are  based.  However,  according  to  the  best 
available  information  only  45  per  cent,  of  laborers  in  the 
United  States  now  receive  as  much  as  $600  per  year.  And 
it  is  probably  true  now  as  then  that  more  than  half  the  wage- 
earning  men  in  this  country  receive  an  income  that  will  not 
support  a  family,  according  to  any  tolerable  standard  of  living.1 
Hundreds  of  thousands  of  such  families  are  suffering  in  physi- 
cal health  and  stamina,  largely  missing  life's  normal  joys, 
bearing  an  undue  proportion  of  suffering  in  every  form,  and 
unable  properly  to  rear  their  children.  Their  poverty  is  espe- 
cially deplorable  at  two  periods,  viz.,  while  the  children  are 
too  small  to  contribute  much  to  the  family  income,  and  when 
the  mother  can  go  to  labor  only  at  the  greatest  cost  to  her- 
self and  to  them;  and  again  when  the  children  have  grown 
to  have  families  of  their  own  to  support,  and  the  parents  must 
face  old  age  with  early  diminished  earning  power  and  great 
difficulty  in  securing  employment.  There  is  one  period  when 
the  unskilled  laborer  is  comparatively  flush  with  money, 
namely,  when  he  has  just  come  into  his  full  earning  power 
and  no  longer  contributes  to  the  support  of  his  father's  family, 

1  Average  wages  at  present  are  slightly  above  $500. 


AMOUNT,  FORMS,  DISTRIBUTION  OF  WEALTH     107 

and  as  yet  has  no  children  of  his  own,  the  very  time  when 
he  is  in  greatest  danger  of  sowing  wild  oats. 

The  statistics  of  wages  of  American  laborers  in  a  measure 
prepare  us  to  realize  not  only  that  a  very  considerable  propor- 
tion of  American  families  normally  and  in  good  times  live  in 
poverty  too  great  to  permit  full  physical  and  moral  efficiency, 
but  also  that  in  bad  times,  in  sickness  and  old  age  and  in  the 
cases  .of  physical  or  moral  inefficiency,  a  multitude  become 
dependent  upon  charity.  Charles  Booth,  in  the  first  great 
scientific  investigation  of  its  kind,  found  that  30.7  per  cent,  of 
the  people  of  London  were  in  poverty  too  great  to  allow 
the  maintenance  of  full  physical  efficiency.  Rowntree  found 
that  the  proportion  similarly  poor  in  the  city  of  York  was 
27.84.  Jacob  Riis  estimated  that  during  the  eight  years  pre- 
vious to  1890  the  actual  recipients  of  charity  in  New  York 
City  had  equaled  in  number  about  one-third  of  the  popula- 
tion of  that  city.  Robert  Hunter,  whose  estimate  has  been 
somewhat  exclaimed  against  but  not  invalidated,  believes  that 
18  or  19  per  cent,  of  the  people  of  the  whole  rich  state  of 
New  York  were  in  distress  at  the  time  of  his  study.  A  map 
of  a  part  of  New  York  City  prepared  for  the  Tenement  House 
Commission  in  1900  shows  a  dot  wherever,  during  the  five 
years  preceding  the  preparation  of  the  map,  five  families  from 
one  house  have  applied  for  charity,  either  to  the  Charity 
Organization  Society  or  the  United  Hebrew  Charities.  "There 
was  hardly  one  tenement  house  in  the  entire  city  that  did  not 
contain  a  number  of  these  dots,  and  many  contained  as  many 
as  fifteen  of  them"  representing  fifteen  times  five,  or  seventy- 
five,  families.  As  a  result  of  his  investigations  and  his  ex- 
perience as  settlement  worker  and  charity  worker,  Robert 
Hunter  would  not  be  surprised  if  the  number  in  poverty1 
in  our  large  cities  and  industrial  centers  rarely  fell  below 
25  per  cent,  of  all  the  people.  For  our  country  at  large  both 

1  Mr.  Hunter  explains  that  by  the  number  in  poverty  he  means  the 
number  of  those  who  "are  not  able  to  obtain  those  necessaries  which 
will  permit  them  to  maintain  a  state  of  physical  efficiency."  (Page  5.) 
They  subsist,  but  their  efficiency  is  gradually  impaired  by  lack  of  such 
things  as  sanitary  abodes,  adequate  food,  and  suitable  clothing. 


io8  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

urban  and  rural,  the  estimate  indicated  in  the  popular  phrase 
"the  submerged  tenth"  is  probably  no  exaggeration ;  and  when 
we  consider  how  many  millions  are  included  in  a  tenth  of 
the  population  of  our  nation,  and  how  many  individual  cases 
of  misery,  blight,  and  ruin  are  included  in  a  million  of  the 
economically  submerged  we  have  a  sufficient  contrast  with 
the  aggregated  millions  of  our  rich.1 

The  extreme  poverty  of  the  submerged  tenth  is  usually  due, 
at  least  in  part,  to  unavoidable  or  avoidable  personal  causes, 
like  sickness,  old  age,  large  families,  or  vice,  shiftlessness  and 
incompetence.  But  the  comparative  poverty  of  the  mass  of 
normal  laborers  is  due  largely  to  industrial  and  social  condi- 
tions. Thousands  of  normal  laborers  and  their  families  live 
always  too  anxiously  near  the  line  of  submergence.  And 
although  so  much  of  the  cost,  waste,  suffering,  vice  and  crime 
that  afflict  society  are  due  to  the  presence  of  a  submerged  tenth, 
yet  their  elevation  might  not  add  so  much  to  the  net  worth  of 
human  life  as  would  the  securing  of  social  justice  to  the  far 
larger  number  who  are  not  submerged,  but  who  lack  the  means 
to  fulfill  their  possibilities  of  happiness,  service  and  personal 
development,  and  who  by  sickness  or  other  misfortune  may  at 
any  moment  be  forced  below  the  line  of  economic  independ- 
ence. 

*A  charity  organization  was  formed  in  a  university  community  of 
about  20,000  in  Illinois.  It  was  an  unusually  prosperous  and  wealthy 
community,  having  little  manufacture,  almost  no  immigrant  popula- 
tion, and,  as  some  said,  no  poverty.  In  the  last  twelve  months  this 
organization,  after  careful  investigation  of  each  case,  ministered  to  354 
resident  families  said  to  include  1,272  persons,  besides  receiving  appli- 
cations from  1078  transients.  The  well-to-do  do  not  frequent  the  un- 
paved  streets  and  the  outskirts  of  our  towns,  and  when  they  pass  that 
way  they  little  realize  the  struggle  that  goes  on  when  the  breadwinner 
falls  by  the  way  or  a  man  earning  $1.50  per  day  has  five  or  six  children 
and  a  sick  wife. 


CHAPTER   VIII 

THE  INADEQUACY  OF  ECONOMIC  LAW  TO  EXPLAIN  OR 

CONTROL  JUSTLY  THE  DISTRIBUTION  OF  WEALTH 

AND  THE  NECESSITY  OF  SOCIAL  CONTROL 

Why  Do  We  Have  So  Much  Poverty  in  Our  Rich  Land  I—- 
Our wealth  is  increasing  as  wealth  has  increased  at  no  other 
time  and  place  in  the  history  of  the  world.  A  distinguished 
economist  declares,  nevertheless,  that  only  one-fourth  of  our 
population  is  benefited  by  this  vast  increase.1  Adam  Smith,  and 
other  economists,  have  taught  that  the  rate  of  wages  depends 
upon  "dispute,"  "contract,"  "custom,"  in  one  phrase,  social 
adjustment.  On  the  other  hand,  in  the  theory  that  "labor  is 
the  residual  claimant,"  advanced  by  Francis  A.  Walker,  but 
set  aside  by  more  recent  economists,  and  in  the  theory  of 
"specific  productivity"  now  generally  held,  an  effort  has  been 
made  to  show  that  economic  law  does  determine  wages  as 
completely  as  rent  or  interest.2  To  the  question,  why  does  not 
the  increase  of  wealth  correspondingly  diminish  poverty,  we 
reply:  because  there  is  nothing  in  the  operation  of  economic 
laws  to  secure  a  just,  reasonable,  or  tolerable  distribution  of 
wealth. 

To  begin  with,  labor  is  not  a  commodity ;  it  is  a  man  work- 
ing. We  refer  to  labor  as  a  commodity  only  by  a  figure  of 
speech.  It  is  a  convenient  figure  of  speech  to  which  we  are 
so  accustomed  that  we  tend  to  think  of  labor  as  being  literally 
a  commodity,  which  it  is  far  from  being.  A  saleable  com- 
modity is  a  material  thing  that  can  be  alienated  from  its 
possessor  and  be.come  the  property  of  another.  Not  so  work; 

1  This  is  a  serious  exaggeration.  Even  factory  workers  and  other 
semi-skilled  and  unskilled  laborers  have  benefited  somewhat,  though 
less  than  justly,  by  our  increase  in  wealth. 

8  The  latter  theory  is  referred  to  on  pages  122  seq. 

109 


I io  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

that  cannot  be  separated  from  the  worker.  When  a  com 
modity,  say  a  pig  of  iron,  has  been  sold,  it  makes  no  difference 
to  its  former  owner  how  or  where  it  is  used;  it  may  be  used 
in  making  sewer-pipe  or  watch-springs  without  injury  or 
advantage  to  the  man  who  sold  it.  Not  so  labor;  it  makes  a 
difference  to  the  laborer  whether  he  is  employed  in  a  sewer 
or  not.  As  labor  is  the  laborer  at  work,  the  laborer  is  di- 
rectly interested  in  the  conditions  of  his  work.  But  there  is 
nothing  in  economic  laws  or  forces  to  insure  to  him  tolerable 
conditions  of  labor;  that  depends  upon  social  adjustments 
through  public  opinion,  custom,  morality,  and  law. 

Labor  Bought  at  Forced  Sale. — And  now  as  to  the  price  of 
his  labor.  Labor  resembles  a  commodity  in  only  one  respect, 
namely,  that  it  commands  a  price.  But  the  price,  or  more 
accurately  the  wage,  of  labor  is  not  fixed  by  the  operation 
of  the  causes  that  fix  normal  prices  for  commodities.  The  first 
peculiarity  of  labor,  in  this  respect,  is  one  that  it  shares  with 
some  commodities,  namely,  those  that  must  be  disposed  of  at 
forced  sale.  In  the  case  of  such  a  commodity  there  is  not 
time  for  the  economic  laws  to  operate  and  secure  a  "normal 
price."  A  man  obliged  to  sell  his  house  within  a  week  would 
very  often  fail  to  find  a  buyer  who  would  give  its  real  value, 
and  he  would  be  obliged  to  sell  to  someone  who  took  it  just 
because  it  could  be  had  for  less  than  its  worth.  Half  an 
hour  before  the  stores  close  on  Saturday  night  strawberries 
often  sell  for  half  or  a  third  of  their  real  value,  because  they 
must  be  sold  at  once  or  be  lost  entirely.  Similarly  each  day's 
labor  must  be  sold  that  very  day,  for  when  night  falls  it  is 
gone  forever ;  its  owner  cannot  store  it  in  bins,  as  the  farmer 
stores  his  grain,  to  wait  for  the  price.  Even  if  the  laborer 
at  the  cost  of  sacrificing  his  labor  should  refuse  to  work 
till  a  fair  price  was  offered,  hoping  to  gain  in  the  remaining 
days  enough  to  make  up  for  the  loss  of  waiting,  then  as  a 
rule  he  and  those  dependent  on  him  would  be  plunged  in 
suffering  by  the  sacrifice.  Moreover,  it  would  prove  an  un- 
availing sacrifice,  for  in  practice  there  would  almost  always 
be  another  laborer  ready  to  take  the  place  at  the  price  which 
the  first  had  declined,  unless  indeed  a  general  agreement  among 


THE  NECESSITY  OF  SOCIAL  CONTROL  in 

laborers  had  been  reached  by  which  all  declined  it  together, 
and  that  would  be  a  strike.  That  last  expedient  might  suc- 
ceed. Labor,  as  before  remarked,  resembles  a  commodity  in 
just  one  thing,  that  it  is  paid  for;  the  employer  must  have 
it  to  continue  industry.  The  strike  takes  advantage  of  this 
one  point  of  analogy  between  labor  and  a  commodity,  but 
only  in  a  more  or  less  abnormal  way,  namely,  by  creating  a 
monopoly,  for  a  strike  is  the  demand  of  a  monopoly.  To 
the  employer  labor  is  like  a  commodity  for  which  he  has  an 
economic  demand,  and  he  objects  if  he  must  buy  it  at  a 
monopoly  price.  To  the  laborer  it  is  not  a  commodity;  it  is 
his  participation  in  industry,  the  basis  of  a  claim  in  equity 
with  the  other  participants,  the  employer  and  the  investor, 
to  a  share  in  the  proceeds  of  industry.  This  difference  in 
point  of  view  is  the  ground  of  endless  misunderstanding. 

Labor  Not  Protected  by  Cost  oi  Production. — The  second 
peculiarity  of  labor  which  excludes  it  from  the  operation 
of  the  economic  laws  that  fix  normal  prices  for  commodi- 
ties is  that  its  production  is  not  similarly  regulated  by  cost. 
It  is  the  cost  of  production  that  prevents  the  prices  of  com- 
modities from  falling  permanently  below  the  normal  level.  If 
for  a  time  the  price  offered  for  any  commodity  is  too  low 
to  pay  for  producing  it,  then  its  production  is  curtailed  or 
the  product  is  withheld  from  market,  equally  limiting  supply 
until  the  very  scarcity,  if  nothing  else,  restores  the  price. 
If  the  demand  permanently  declines,  as  it  may  in  the  case  of 
a  puzzle  or  fashion,  so  that  the  price  does  not  rise  again  to 
a  point  covering  the  cost  of  production,  then  production  of 
that  commodity  ceases  permanently.  A  normal  price  level 
for  commodities,  especially  staple  commodities,  is  thus  main- 
tained because  the  supply  offered  for  sale  falls  off  and  scarcity 
sets  in  if  prices  go  below  the  cost  of  production.  For  labor 
there  is  no  such  thing  as  a  normal  price  fixed  by  this  law,, 
since  in  the  case  of  labor  the  law  does  not  operate,  for  the 
supply  of  labor  offered  for  sale  is  not  reduced  when  prices  fall. 
Labor  cannot  be  stored  to  wait  for  a  better  price,  nor  can  its 
production  be  suddenly  curtailed;  the  supply  is  renewed  with 
each  returning  day,  and  there  is  nothing  that  its  "seller" 


ii2  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

could  do  to  limit  the  production  but  to  commit  suicide.  In 
fact  when  the  demand  for  labor  is  poor,  the  supply,  seeking 
a  market  instead  of  diminishing,  as  would  be  the  case  with 
any  commodity,  actually  increases.  The  laborers  discharged 
at  such  a  time  become  applicants  for  jobs  and  thus  the  amount 
of  labor  put  on  the  market  is  not  less  but  greater,  when  the 
demand  for  labor  is  least. 

It  is  true  that  when  times  are  slack  some  laborers  emigrate, 
some  men  retire  to  their  little  farms,  and  some  women  to  their 
homes  and  when  such  adjustments  have  done  all  they  can, 
the  birth  rate  may  decrease,  and  so  the  supply  of  labor 
diminish.  But  that  is  too  remote  a  result  to  secure  for  us  a 
normal  rate  of  wages,  nor  will  it  ultimately  secure  it,  for 
if  suffering  continues  long  enough  the  standard  of  living  de- 
clines. It  is  those  with  an  exacting  and  hopeful  standard  of 
living  who  rationally  limifrthe  number  of  their  offspring  and 
those  who  are  miserable  still  propagate,  not  at  the  most  rapid 
rate,  but  at  a  rate  quite  sufficient  to  maintain  their  numbers 
and  keep  up  the  supply  of  labor.  It  is  therefore  the  quality 
and  not  the  quantity  of  labor  that  will  fall  off.  And  while 
by  that  means  skilled  labor  might  ultimately  become  scarce 
and  expensive,  the  number  of  applicants  for  the  worst  paid 
jobs,  and  the  mass  of  misery  at  the  bottom  of  society  would 
be  increased  if  the  unfolding  of  events  were  left  to  the  opera- 
tion of  economic  laws  alone.  We  are  in  fact  at  present  ex- 
periencing this  result.  We  are  having  more  of  the  under- 
vitalized,  nerveless,  stimulant-craving,  untrained,  incompetent 
laborers  and  a  smaller  proportion  of  capable  and  efficient  ones 
than  we  should  have  reason  to  expect  if  the  laborers  could 
maintain  a  proper  standard  of  living.1 

The  Differential. — Labor  as  we  have  seen  is  not  a  com- 
modity, nor  is  any  normal  price  for  labor  fixed  by  economic 
laws.  Labor  is  instead  man's  exertion,  and  the  basis  of  a 

1  America  may  have  more  than  her  share  of  such  incompetents, 
in  part  because  although  a  high  standard  of  living  is  "the  fulcrum  of 
progress,"  yet  the  constant  spectacle  of  an  inaccessible  "pleasure  econ- 
omy" drives  some  away  from  the  patient  grind  to  dissipation  and  the 
hobo's  life. 


THE  NECESSITY  OF  SOCIAL  CONTROL  113 

claim  to  share  with  managers  and  investors  in  the  proceeds 
of  industry  upon  some  equitable  basis.  The  investor  is  sure 
of  his  return  if  the  industry  prospers  and  no  fraud  is  perpe- 
trated upon  him.  Some  people  think  that  interest  is  wrong 
and  call  it  usury,  but  if  there  were  no  interest  on  capital  a 
large  part  of  it  would  be  withdrawn  and  consumed.1  It  is 
necessary  not  only  to  induce  owners  to  refrain  from  with- 
drawing and  consuming  their  capital,  but  also  to  draw  into 
productive  investment  enough  new  capital  to  cover  losses  and 
to  provide  for  the  extension  of  business,  and  the  employ- 
ment of  the  added  population.  The  larger  the  amount  of 
well-invested  capital  the  more  openings  for  labor  and  the 
greater  the  productivity  of  labor.  The  withdrawal  of  cap- 
ital would  paralyze  industry.  Industry  cannot  go  on  without 
the  use  of  land  and  capital,  and  their  owners  can  command 
a  return  for  their  use  at  a  normal  rate,  which  is  approxi- 
mately fixed  by  economic  causes,  as  the  studies  of  the  econo- 
mist in  rent  and  interest  have  shown.  Hence  in  cutting  the 
cake  of  proceeds  from  an  industry,  off  comes  inevitably  a 
pretty  definite  slice  for  the  investor.  There  is  also  a  neces- 
sary return  to  the  manager  without  which  adequate  ability, 
application,  and  care  could  not  be  secured  for  the  discharge 

1  According  to  Professor  J.  B.  Clark,  the  existing  stock  of  capital, 
unless  lost  by  misfortune  or  bad  management,  or  withdrawn  and  con- 
sumed, renews  itself  perpetually  out  of  its  own  earnings.  Its  earnings 
include  the  renewal  fund  plus  interest.  The  investor,  unless  he  with- 
draws his  capital,  never  gets  it  back  for  purposes  of  consumption,  but 
gets  only  a  permanent  flow  of  interest.  "To  everyone  who  has  a 
larger  income  than  is  necessary  to  sustain  life,  is  presented  the  option 
of  taking,  as  part  of  his  income,  something  that  will  give  pleasure  for 
a  time  and  then  utterly  perish  or,  on  the  other  hand,  of  taking  some- 
thing that  will  never  in  itself  give  any  pleasure,  but  that  to  the  end 
of  time  will  create,  every  year,  a  quantity  of  other  things  that  will 
do  so."  (Clark:  The  Distribution  of  Wealth,  p.  135.)  But  capital 
"produces"  only  when  associated  with  labor,  and  its  permanence  de- 
pends on  good  management  and  social  order.  If,  as  Professor  Clark 
believes,  capital  in  general  renews  itself  perpetually,  then  the  Social- 
ists have  ground  for  the  claim  that  if  once  society,  and  not  indi- 
viduals, owned  the  great  bodies  of  capital,  interest  might  become  obso- 
lete, re-investment  of  surplus  earnings,  aided  by  the  enforced  "absti- 
nence" of  taxation  being  depended  on  for  extension  of  capital, 


H4  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

of  his  important  task,  and  as  sufficient  training,  steadiness  of 
effort,  and  ability  are  more  or  less  exceptional,  their  scarcity 
may  secure  for  him  a  just  reward,  though  the  paid  manager 
who  is  not  an  owner  depends  largely  upon  the  necessity  of 
continuity  in  the  business,  his  knowledge  of  the  particular 
industry  and  its  secrets,  personal  relationship  with  owners, 


ct 

p 

.Investors  Share 

c 
e 

d 

f 

Managers  Share 

Necessary  Wages 

9 

h 

Differential 

i 

i 

and  custom,  to  secure  for  him  a  liberal  share  in  the  proceeds. 
There  is  also  a  necessary  cost  of  labor,  for  without  some 
wage  labor  is  not  to  be  had,  though  there  is  no  guarantee 
that  necessary  wages  will  constitute  a  normal  or  equitable 
return  for  the  laborer's  participation  in  production.  Now 
after  catting  off  from  the  cake  that  was  to  be  sliced  the  vari- 
ous portions  demanded  by  economic  requirements,  namely,  the 
necessary  share  of  investors  and  the  necessary  cost  of  man- 


THE  NECESSITY  OF  SOCIAL  CONTROL  115 

agement  and  necessary  wages,  in  the  case  of  the  most  prosper- 
ous industries  a  differential  will  remain. 

This  differential  is.  the  bone  of  contention.  Who  is  to  be 
its  possessor?  It  may  be  consumed  by  inefficient  methods  or 
by  wasteful  competition.  But  when  those  establishments  that 
produce  at  a  disadvantage  have  been  mostly  eliminated  by 
competition,  and  competition  itself  has  been  limited  by  con- 
solidation of  industry,  most  business  carried  on  in  a  pros- 
perous country,  may  show  in  all  good  years  a  differential.1 
And  if  the  economists  are  correct  in  teaching  that  the  normal 
return  for  land  and  capital  invested  in  the  industry  is  deter- 
mined by  economic  causes,  then  the  differential  properly  re- 
mains 2  to  be  divided  among  the  people  who  cooperate  in 
producing  the  output :  that  is,  between  managers  and  laborers. 

No  Share  in  Primary  Distribution. — Here  the  laborer  is  at 
a  tremendous  disadvantage  because  the  whole  of  the  differen- 
tial goes  first  into  the  hands  of  the  management,  and  the 
laborers  have  the  problem  of  getting  their  share  of  it  out  of 
his  hands.3  Herein  lies  the  third  obstacle  to  the  just  deter- 
mination of  wages.  When  the  output  of  an  industry,  say  a 
shoe  factory,  is  sold  it  is  all  sold  by  the  management.  No 
laborer  can  sell  a  single  shoe.  The  entire  returns  of  all  the 
country's  industries  are  thus  first  distributed  among  the  man- 
agers of  the  industries.  This  is  called  primary  distribution. 
Then  the  managers  pay  what  they  must  to  the  investors  and 
laborers  who  have  cooperated  with  them.  This  is  called 
secondary  distribution.  We  have  seen  that  the  normal  return 
to  labor  is  not  secured  by  the  operation  of  economic  causes, 
for  the  laborer  is  not  the  seller  or  renter  or  lender  of  a  com- 

*On  the  necessity  and  justice  of  retention  by  employers,  in  good 
years,  of  an  offset  for  the  losses  of  bad  years,  see  page  126. 

*  Economists  do  not  teach  that  interest,  rent,  wages  and  profits  are 
each  determined  by  economic  laws,  independently  of  each  other,  for 
changes  in  one  of  them  may  affect  the  amounts  of  all  the  others.  But 
after  all  these  effects  have  worked  themselves  out,  the  "differential" 
remains  as  above  stated. 

3  On  the  proposition  that  the  differential , is  created  by  managers 
and  remains  inevitably  in  their  possession,  as  a  quasi-rent  upon 
agerial  ability,  see  pages  122,  127,  128,  and  especially  137. 


ii6  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

modity  for  which  a  normal  price  is  automatically  maintained. 
Instead  he  is  a  man  cooperating  with  other  men,  each  of  whom 
bases  upon  the  fact  of  his  cooperation  a  claim  in  equity  to  a 
share  in  the  common  product.  A  portion  of  the  laborer's 
claim  must  be  paid  him  as  "necessary  wages,"  but  the  balance 
of  it  is  adjudicated,  not  by  a  disinterested  outsider,  but  by 
one  of  the  claimants  who  has  the  whole  proceeds  of  the  in- 
dustry in  his  possession. 

Organization. — Additional  reason  why  equity  can  be  de- 
feated and  enormous  concentration  of  wealth  take  place,  lies 
in  the  extent  to  which  industrial  and  financial  organization  has 
been  carried.  A  high  degree  of  organization  is  essential  to 
efficiency.  But  wherever  there  is  centralized  power  there  is 
peril  and  if  the  power  is  great  the  social  control  must  be  ade- 
quate. As  organization  proceeds  and  thousands  are  concen- 
trated in  one  industry  and  different  industries  unite  into  sys- 
tems it  becomes  possible  and  in  the  present  condition  of  cus- 
tom, morality,  and  law,  it  is  natural  for  the  men  who  stand 
at  the  nucleus  of  the  system  to  take  toll  upon  the  labor  of  an 
army  of  their  fellows.  This  occurs  not  only  in  the  relation 
between  laborer  and  employer  but  also  at  the  financial  end. 
In  great  industries  the  entrepreneurs  often  contribute  little 
to  the  technical  management  which  secures  productivity,  and 
devote  themselves  largely  to  financiering.  Great  portions  of 
the  social  income  are  deducted  in  the  form  of  profit  on  stock- 
gambling  and  on  the  sale  of  watered  stock,  and  "bonuses"  for 
promotion  and  underwriting.  Corrupt  dealing  in  worthless 
mining  and  industrial  stocks  and  in  fraudulent  land  specula- 
tions also  abstract  vast  sums  from  the  incomes  of  the  common 
people.  Of  the  abuses  of  financiering  more  can  best  be  said 
later  in  connection  with  the  discussion  of  remedies. 

Finally,  as  consumers  we  are  all  exploited  enormously, 
and  that  in  part  by  organization  and  in  part  by  the  disorganiza- 
tion of  wasteful  competition  in  merchandizing. 

The  aspects  of  the  present  situation  which  have  now 
been  described  are  the  main  causes  of  the  inequity  in  the 
distribution  of  wealth.  The  interests  of  managers  and  laborers 
are  identical  in  this,  that  both  desire  the  differential  dividend 


THE  NECESSITY  OF  SOCIAL  CONTROL  117 

to  be  as  large  as  possible.  Their  interests  are  opposite  when 
it  comes  to  dividing  it.  It  would  be  foolish  to  minimize  the 
work  of  the  manager.  The  effectiveness  of  all  the  labor  em- 
ployed depends  upon  the  efficiency  of  management,  and  the 
necessary  cost  of  management,  high  as  it  may  be,  must  be  paid 
out  of  the  proceeds  of  industry.  Likewise  the  necessary 
inducement  in  the  form  of  rent,  interest,  or  dividends,  must 
be  held  out  to  the  investors  of  the  indispensable  capital  and 
land. 

But  the  differential  still  remaining  whenever  there  is  such 
a  differential  will  not  be  justly  divided  by  force  of  economic 
causes.  Its  division  is  not  an  economic  problem  but  a  social 
one,  for  it  depends  upon  public  opinion  which  may  be  mis- 
guided and  supine,  custom  which  may  be  all  wrong,  morality 
which  may  be  only  embryonic  at  any  given  point,  contract  and 
law  which  obey  custom  and  public  opinion. 

Though.  Present  Distribution  Is  Indefensible,  Equality  of 
Incomes  Is  Neither  Expedient,  Just,  nor  Feasible. — In  forming 
our  ideal  of  what  constitutes  a  just  and  proper  distribution 
of  wealth  we  must  be  careful  to  admit  that  there  are  great 
differences  in  the  powers  of  men  in  the  direction  of  any  given 
kind  of  achievement;  that  it  is  important  to  have  men  of 
great  organizing  power  in  the  positions  of  business  control ; 
and  that  such  men  may  properly  receive  incomes  far  greater 
than  those  of  the  average  laborer.  They  should  receive  as 
much  as  men  of  equal  powers  and  equally  arduous  labors 
in  any  other  walk  of  life.  But  when  they  receive  ten  or  a 
hundred  times  as  much  as  their  equals  in  other  walks  of  life, 
justice  has  no  sanction  for  such  inequality.  The  differences 
of  income  are  carried  to  an  absurd  extreme  when  the  busi- 
ness organizer  is  given  too  much  power  in  deciding  the  amount 
of  his  own  share,  and  when  he  is  led  to  measure  his  success 
by  the  amount  of  the  social  income  which  he  appropriates 
to  himself.  The  stupendous  difference  in  the  rewards  of 
labor  is  not  proportioned  to  the  differences  between  the  quali- 
ties of  men,  great  as  these  doubtless  sometimes  are.  And 
as  to  the  latter  it  would  be  absurd  to  think  that  the  man 
who  acquires  wealth  is  always  superior  to  those  who  do  not 


n8  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

acquire  it.  Abilities  that  can  be  equaled  by  one  man  in 
every  twenty  normal  men,  coupled  with  intense  concentra- 
tion upon  the  desire  for  wealth,  may  suffice  for  the  acquisi- 
tion of  vast  possessions.  Concentration  upon  a  purpose  is 
one  evidence  of  ability,  but  it  is  also  true  that  concentration 
Upon  the  pursuit  of  wealth  may  evince  poverty  of  nature  or 
of  breeding.  Many  of  the  ablest  men  devote  themselves  to 
pursuits  in  which  there  is  little  or  no  opportunity  to  acquire 
great  wealth.  No  one  is  likely  to  deny  that  in  many  instances 
the  comparatively  poor  man  has  far  greater  ability  of  intellect, 
will,  and  sensibility  than  his  rich  fellow-citizen.  And  among 
laborers  there  appear  to  be  some  who  surpass  in  these  respects 
some  of  those  who  acquire  great  fortunes.  The  books  drawn 
from  public  library  stations  in  the  poorer  quarters  of  cities, 
the  conversation,  and  even  the  writings  of  laborers,  the  devo- 
tion and  the  determination  shown  in  pursuit  of  fixed  aims 
under  baffling  conditions  that  try  the  courage  and  the  will 
more  severely  than  any  progress  along  the  pathway  of  success, 
demonstrate  the  frequency  of  high-class  normality  in  the 
human  breed  in  spite  of  poverty. 

Caste  is  mainly  a  social  illusion  fostered  by  the  differences 
of  appearance  permitted  by  wealth,  including  the  differences  of 
speech,  manner,  and  culture  due  to  differences  of  nurture. 
Since  the  "wish  is  father  to  the  thought,"  and  "belief  the  off- 
spring of  desire,"  the  fortunate  often  believe  in  the  native  su- 
periority of  their  class.  This  class  creed  has  in  it  just  enough 
of  truth  to  make  it  a  dangerous  falsehood.  It  is  especially 
groundless  in  this  country  where  most  of  the  poor  have  not 
enjoyed  the  opportunities  of  a  free  country  long  enough  to 
prove  their  capacity,  and  where  we  have  so  often  seen  the  chil- 
dren of  European  peasants  rise  to  places  of  wealth  and  in- 
fluence. 

What  of  the  Rank  and  File? — The  way  of  escape  from 
injustice  is  not  in  exhorting  the  laborer  to  rise  from  his  class. 
If  all  men  were  capable  of  becoming  captains  of  industry 
not  all  men  could  be  such.  The  army  of  industry  must  have 
an  enormous  rank  and  file.  All  but  a  small  minority  must 
by  the  necessity  of  *he  case  march  all  their  lives  in  the  ranks. 


THE  NECESSITY  OF  SOCIAL  CONTROL  119 

Democracy  is  a  failure  unless  it  can  make  the  values  of  life 
accessible  to  the  normal  men  in  the  ranks,  instead  of  concen- 
trating the  proceeds  of  industry  in  the  possession  of  a  few. 
From  each  pair  of  industrious  hands  there  flows  a  little  rill 
of  plenty  to  water  their  owner's  garden,  but  these  rills  flow 
through  the  race-way  of  primary  distribution,  and  the  gardens 
of  the  many  are  left  arid  while  these  rills  are  gathered  into 
Amazons  to  inundate  the  few.  The  captain  of  an  industry 
is  only  a  man  "for  a'  that,"  and  the  laborer  is  also  a  man. 
And  even  if  the  manager  be  one  man  in  a  thousand,  yet  is 
he  not  a  thousand  times  a  man.  If  he  receives  a  thousand 
times  as  much  as  certain  other  normal  men  engaged  in  regular 
work  in  the  same  industry,  it  is  because  equity  is  defeated 
through  the  power  given  the  employer  by  his  position  in  the 
economic  organization. 

Do  We  Need  Plutocrats? — It  is  sometimes  objected  that 
unless  we  have  a  very  rich  class,  life  will  be  robbed  of  beauty, 
and  great  benefactions  to  education  and  philanthropy  will 
be  impossible.  But  the  palaces  of  art  can  better  be  provided 
by  public  funds  and  devoted  to  general  use.  And  education 
and  social  progress  can  be  systematically  promoted  by  public 
agencies,  rather  than  by  the  donations  of  the  rich.  They 
should  be  enjoyed  as  of  right  by  a  self-respecting  citizenship, 
and  not  accepted  as  charity.  And  sweet  charity  should  issue 
in  the  gifts  gathered  from  the  prosperous  many  rather  than 
from  the  largess  of  the  overwealthy.  The  truth  of  all  this 
may  be  recognized  without  forgetting  that  for  the  present 
many  useful  purposes  depend  for  realization  upon  the  liberal 
cooperation  of  the  rich,  and  human  nature  at  its  best  partly 
overcomes  the  evils  of  a  bad  system  when  great  wealth  is  held 
as  a  trust  by  its  possessors. 

Wealth  as  Success. — Another  objection  to  the  more  equi- 
table distribution  of  wealth  is  that  we  must  allow  great  for- 
tunes if  we  are  to  attract  great  men  and  spur  them  on  to  the 
efforts  necessary  for  the  efficient  leadership  of  industry.  But 
is  it  true  that  if  great  men  are  to  do  their  utmost  they  must 
be  offered  millions  on  millions?  -Has  the  best  work  of  the 
greatest  men  been  done  for  money  ?  Is  money  the  only  motive 


120  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

that  appeals  to  the  great?  Far  from  it.  They  strive  even 
more  for  the  respect  and  admiration  of  their  fellowmen,  for 
the  sense  of  power  and  worth.  Those  who  have  powers  find 
their  joy  in  the  exercise  of  those  powers.  And  even  when 
money  is  the  chief  motive  must  millions  be  offered,  or  will 
one  who  is  working  for  fifteen  hundred  a  year  do  his  utmost 
to  earn  fifteen  thousand?  Do  the  greatest  business  men  ever 
work  harder  than  when  they  are  seeking  their  first  hundred 
thousand  and  uncertain  whether  they  will  attain  it?  It  is 
true  that  the  captains  of  industry  must  be  allowed  to  receive 
large  incomes.  They  may  be  double  or  treble  or  tenfold  the 
income  of  the  ordinary  man  but  when  they  rise  to  a  hundred 
times  the  income  of  the  mass  of  normal  men,  it  is  absurdity. 
There  are  many  grades  of  business  success  popularly  measured 
by  wealth.  The  business  man  struggles  to  reach  the  highest 
grade  attainable.  If  that  were  measured  by  an  income  of 
fifty  thousand  a  year,  and  only  the  rarest  success  attained 
that  sum  and  no  one  had  more  he  would  struggle  for  that. 
After  all  it  is  the  distinction,  the  success,  the  achievement, 
thai:  great  business  men  strive  for.  They  do  not  need  the 
millions  save  as  the  evidence  and  measure  of  their  success 
and  power. 

Such  vast  financial  rewards  are  not  only  unnecessary  as 
motives;  they  are  perversive.  To  make  the  differences  in 
money  so  conspicuous  obscures  the  difference  in  real  achieve- 
ment, makes  men  think  themselves  successful,  and  causes 
them  to  be  regarded  by  others  as  successful,  when  they  have 
achieved  nothing  worthy,  rendered  no  service  in  the  leadership 
of  industry,  but  only  managed  through  deals  in  margins  or 
manipulation  of  stocks  or  otherwise  to  appropriate  a  large 
amount  from  the  social  income.  By  the  glitter  of  mountains 
of  gold  men  are  hindered  from  perceiving  that  captains  of 
industry  are  social  functionaries;  and  so  men  now  run  mills 
to  make  money  rather  than  to  make  shoes  or  machinery. 
They  have  too  little  ambition  to  organize  the  factors  of  in- 
dustry so  as  to  yield  the  most  effective  production,  too  little 
pride  and  satisfaction  in  doing  so.  And  they  may  forget 
altogether  that  they  have  undertaken  to  captain  the  industrial 


THE  NECESSITY  OF  SOCIAL  CONTROL  121 

lives  of  the  men  whom  they  employ,  and  that  the  efficiency  of 
their  leadership  may  be  measured  by  the  prosperity  of  the 
men  they  employ,  of  the  whole  detachment  of  the  industrial 
army  which  they  lead,  as  well  as  by  the  size  of  their  own 
fortunes.  Moreover,  society  as  a  whole  forgets  these  things 
and  admires  the  money-getter  rather  than  the  man  of  social 
achievement.  As  soon  as  society  revises  its  perverted  judg- 
ment on  this  point  men  of  ambition  will  revise  the  direction 
of  their  endeavor.  The  desire  for  success  is  a  motive  entirely 
distinguishable  from  the  desire  for  material  possessions;  and 
success  is  defined  by  social  judgment.  If  at  a  given  time  and 
place  success  as  such  coincides  with  material  wealth  it  is 
because  society  at  that  time  and  place  so  defines  success.  The 
obsession  extends  beyond  business  life,  and  other  forms  of 
achievement  in  science,  art,  literature,  and  social  leadership, 
that  evince  the  highest  human  powers  and  yield  th^  greatest 
social  benefits  but  do  not  make  much  money,  are  undervalued. 
This  is  important  not  so  much  because  it  is  unjust  to  those 
who  achieve  as  because  fewer  do  achieve  on  this  account,  for 
the  powers  with  which  the  people  of  a  society  are  endowed 
go  out  in  those  directions  which  the  popular  judgment  affirms 
to  be  most  admirable.  Incorruptible  statesmen,  great  adminis- 
trators managing  the  affairs  of  cities,  creators  -in  the  arts, 
discoverers  in  the  sciences,  master  minds  engaged  in  leading 
social  cooperation,  can  be  had  by  the  society  that  adequately 
appreciates  and  respects  these  forms  of  achievement.  A  per- 
version of  the  popular  judgment  of  success  is  the  most  radical 
form  of  social  degeneracy  or  crudity.  No  society  has  yet 
properly  adjusted  its  appreciations  and  detestations,  and  a 
shifting  of  emphasis  in  the  judgment  of  success  is  the  most 
fundamental  of  all  reforms. 

Finally,  it  is  objected  that  because  the  distribution  of  wealth 
has  always  been  inequitable,  it  always  must  be  glaringly  so. 
This  deserves  the  same  amount  of  consideration  as  did  the 
arguments  by  which  men  once  proved  that  slavery  was  ren- 
dered inevitable  by  the  traits  of  human  nature,  or  those  by 
which  they  once  disproved  the  feasibility  of  railroads. 

Competition  as  a  Cure-All.— To  all  the  foregoing  considera- 


122  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

tion  some  reply  that  the  only  thing  necessary  in  order  tc 
secure  to  labor  all  that  it  produces  and  to  abolish  abnormal 
profits  of  employers  is  to  restore  free  competition.  They 
say  that  when  there  is  free  competition  there  is  no  such  dif- 
ferential as  we  have  described,  because  under  free  competi- 
tion an  industry  which  yielded  such  a  differential  would 
attract  so  many  entrepreneurs  that  the  product  would  become 
so  plentiful  as  to  lower  prices  and  wipe  out  these  differential 
profits.  There  would  indeed  be  a  difference  between  the 
income  of  the  abler  and  the  less  competent  managers,  but  they 
say  that  this  differential  being  created  by  the  good  manager, 
we  can  no  more  take  it  from  him  than  we  can  refuse  to  pay 
the  rental  which  economic  law  inevitably  assigns  to  a  superior 
piece  of  land.  They  add  that  the  increased  production  by 
many  employers  would  mean  the  employment  of  more  labor- 
ers ;'  that  in  fact  each  employer  in  a  profit-yielding  industry 
would  continue  to  employ  more  laborers  till  the  point  was 
reached  where  another  laborer  would  produce  nothing  above 
the  wages  paid ;  that  this  last  laborer  would  therefore  get  all 
that  he  produced  except  just  enough  margin  to  induce  an 
employer  to  engage  him,  and  that  when  this  becomes  true  of 
the  last  laborer  it  would  be  true  of  all  similar  laborers,  for 
the  laborers  who.  have  been  employed  on  equal  terms  are 
interchangeable  units.  Thus  it  is  claimed  that  if  we  only 
had  free  competition  in  any  industry  there  could  be  no  ab- 
normal prices  in  that  industry,  since  abnormal  prices  would 
attract  new  competitors  and  stimulate  more  plentiful  produc- 
tion till  the  public  had  as  much  of  the  product  of  that  industry 
as  it  would  buy  at  a  normal  price,  till  all  the  labor  needed 
to  produce  such  an  abundant  supply  was  employed  at  a  rate 
practically  equal  to  the  value  of  labor's  product,  and  no  dif- 
ferential profits  would  remain  to  employers  save  the  "rent" 
of  superior  management.1 

If  all  this  is  true,  the  fact  remains  that  the  operation  of 
"economic  forces"  does  not  secure  the  free  competition  on 

1For  an  elaborate  presentation  of  this  position  see  Professor 
Clark's  work  on  The  Distribution  of  Wealth,  Macmillan,  1908,  particu- 
larly pp.  4,  9,  83,  94,  105,  106,  116,  180,  321,  332,  400,  411,  418,  419. 


THE  NECESSITY  OF  SOCIAL  CONTROL  123 

which  this  economic  millenium  is  founded,  and  if  free  com- 
petition is  secured  and  maintained  it  must  be  done  by  the 
exercise  of  social  control.  The  economic  interest  of  the  most 
forceful  managers  of  industry  drives  them  toward  combina- 
tion and  the  utilization  of  all  the  "elements  of  monopoly" 
which  they  find  available.  '"The  prime  importance  of  monop- 
oly privileges  in  the  distribution  of  wealth  is  shown  by  Pro- 
fessor Commons  in  his  work  on  "The  Distribution  of  Wealth," 
of  which  page  252  is  quoted  in  Ely's  "Principles  of  Econom- 
ics," page  342.  According  to  those  authorities  about  78  per 
cent,  of  the  4,047  millionaire  fortunes  referred  to  as  having 
been  investigated  "were  derived  from  permanent  monopoly 
privileges."  And  "there  can  be  no  question"  that  if  the  re- 
maining 21.4  per  cent,  "were  fully  analyzed,  it  would  appear 
that  they  were  not  due  solely  to  personal  abilities  unaided  by 
these  permanent  monopoly  privileges."  "It  will  be  found  that 
perhaps  95  per  cent,  of  the  total  values  represented  by  these 
millionaire  fortunes  is  due  to  those  investments  classed  as  land 
values  and  natural  monopolies  and  to  competitive  industries 
aided  by  such  monopolies."  In  fact  the  economic  tendency  in 
the  direction  of  monopoly  is  so  strong  that  all  the  efforts  at 
social  control  by  which  we  have  thus  far  striven  to  combat 
it  have  proved  largely  futile.  If  those  who  are  on  the  inside 
of  the  management  of  *a  great  industry  have  a  powerful  com- 
mon interest  in  combining,  how  are  we  to  prevent  them  from 
doing  so?  We  may  forbid  this  or  that  legal  form,  we  may 
punish  the  grosser  methods  of  intimidating  possible  competi- 
tors or  exterminating  those  who  have  actually  commenced 
competition.  In  such  ways  we  shall  do  what  we  may  to  keep 
alive  free  competition.  But  unless  we  succeed  in  doing  so, 
we  must  also  invoke  other  methods  of  securing  the  distribu- 
tion of  at  least  a  part  of  the  present  differential.  In  some 
of  the  greatest  and  most  important  industries  unlimited  com- 
petition will  never  be  restored ;  in  some  the  attempt  to  restore 
it  would  inevitably  be  wasteful  as  well  as  futile.  Chief  among 
these  are  the  railways  and  other  public  utilities  that  are  natural 
monopolies.  In  these  and  in  all  the  other  great  industries  in 
which  free  competition  cannot  be  or  has  not  been  secured, 


INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

we  must  control  the  combinations  that  we  do  not  succeed  in 
preventing. 

Even  where  free  competition  exists  or  might  exist,  it  does 
not  suffice  to  secure  economic  justice  to  the  laborer.  The 
argument  of  Professor  Clark  and  others,  by  which  they  at- 
tempt to  show  that  under  free  competition  each  factor  in 
industry  tends,  without  the  exercise  of  social  control,  to  receive 
practically  what  it  produces,  is  fallacious.  They  tell  us  that 
because  any  manager  will  hire  another  laborer  whenever  an- 
other laborer  would  .produce  any  more  than  the  wages  paid 
him,  therefore  every  manager  will  be  led  by  his  own  interest 
to  continue  adding  to  his  labor  force  until  the  last  laborer 
employed  produces  only  barely  enough  more  than  his  wages 
to  make  an  inducement  to  engage  him ;  and  that  in  so  far  as 
laborers  are  interchangeable  units,  what  is  true  in  this  respect 
of  the  last  laborer  is  true  of  every  laborer  working  in  the 
same  labor  market,  namely,  each  receives  practically  what  he 
produces. 

The  fallacy  lies  in  assuming  that  the  last  laborer  employed 
produces  only  barely  more  than  his  wages.  One  engineer  on 
a  railway  train  may  be  paid  five  dollars  a  day  but  render  a 
service  for  which  the  company  would  pay  a  hundred  dollars 
a  day  if  they  could  not  get  it  for  less.  At  the  same  time 
another  engineer  would  only  be  in  the  way.  The  number  of 
laborers  employed  is  not  limited  by  the  productivity  of  the 
"marginal"  laborer  in  their  sense  of  that  expression,  but  by 
the  necessities  of  organization.  As  many  will  be  engaged 
as  fit  into  the  organization,  and  the  number  that  fit  in  is  fixed, 
not  by  the  productivity  of  the  last  laborer,  but  by  the  amount 
and  kind  of  land,  capital,  and  managerial  ability.  The  man- 
ager with  highly  specialized  machinery  can  employ  only  as( 
many  laborers  as  his  machinery  calls  for,  although  those 
employed  may  produce  far  more  than  their  wages. 

It  may  be  truly  said  that  under  free  competition  the  amount 
of  machinery  and  of  every  factor  in  production  will  tend  to 
be  as  great  as  is  justified  by  the  demand  for  the  product  of 
the  industry.  Even  then  the  last  laborer  employed  may  pro- 
duce far  more  than  his  wages.  And  after  as  many  laborers 


THE  NECESSITY  OF  SOCIAL  CONTROL  125 

are  employed  in  the  industry  as  are  required  to  complete  the 
organization  of  that  industry,  if  there  remain  other  laborers 
who  would  gladly  do  the  work  but  are  left  unemployed,  then 
they  will  underbid  the  laborers  who  are  receiving  a  just  wage. 

If  the  time  ever  came  when  there  were  no  surplus  laborers, 
economic  conditions  would  tend  to  secure  to  every  man  at 
least  a  marginal  wage.  But  since  laborers  must  work  or  starve, 
and  entrepreneurs  receive  the  whole  product  of  primary  distri- 
bution, economic  conditions,  even  then,  would  not  insure  thaf 
any  laborer  received  the  whole,  or  approximately  the  whole, 
product  of  his  labor,  if  there  were  any  man  engaged  in  less 
productive  labor  who  was  a  satisfactory  candidate  for  the 
more  productive  job.  In  other  words,  wages  for  any  given 
task  would  tend  to  sink  toward  the  point  where  they  barely 
surpassed  the  wages  of  the  least  profitably  employed  laborer 
who  could  perform  the  given  task.  And  unless  social  control 
intervene,  the  point  at  which  the  reduction  of  wages  will  stop 
would  still  depend,  as  now,  on  the  relative  bargaining  power 
of  laborers  and  employers. 

Should  the  Manager  Retain  All  That  His  Activity  at  Pres- 
ent Conditions? — The  conception  of  profits  under  free  compe- 
tition as  "rent"  of  superior  managerial  ability  leads  many 
to  conclude  that  there  would  be  no  justice  in  taking  any  part 
of  his  gains  from  the  manager  because  he  has  "created"  all 
the  value  that  he  now  retains.  Perhaps  we  could  very  well 
afford  to  let  managers  retain  all  that  they  could  as  pure  rent 
of  the  abilities  productively  applied  under  free  competition. 
But  as  the  question  has  been  raised  in  the  assumption  that 
they  could  still  retain  large  differentials,  and  in  the  name 
of  pure  justice,  let  us  consider  it  on  that  basis.1  It  must 
always  be  borne  in  mind  that  we  approve  and  advocate  a 
large  income  for  the  entrepreneur.  The  only  question  is 
whether  justice  requires  that  all  the  gains  conditioned  by 
his  activity  should  remain  in  his  possession  in  case  such  gains 
prove  to  be  enormous. 

1The  question  whether  any  part  of  the  present  differential  can  be 
taken  from  the  entrepreneur,  or  whether  such  part  of  it  as  he  can- 
not retain  will  cease  to  be  produced,  is  treated  on  p.  137  seq. 


126  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

Gains  from  Chance  and  from  Foresight. — The  differential 
remaining  in  the  hands  of  the  employer  may  be  said  to  contain 
three  elements:  (i)  the  gains  of  foresight  and  risk-taking; 
(2)  the  gains  of  organization;  (3)  the  gains  of  bargaining. 

Capital  "tied  up"  in  an  industry  is  paid  back  by  the  in- 
dustry only  after  the  lapse  of  considerable  time  during  which 
there  may  be  reduction  in  demand  for  the  product  which  the 
investment  helps  to  make,  perhaps  by  the  discovery  of  a 
better  substitute  for  that  product.  And  there  may  be  invented 
better  machinery  for  making  the  product  before  the  machinery 
in  which  the  investment  has  been  sunk  has  been  worn  out 
or  has  paid  for  itself.  Raw  material  must  be  selected  and 
paid  for  and  wages  must  be  paid  some  time  before  it  is  pos- 
sible to  know  exactly  the  price  for  which  the  product  can 
be  sold.  Goods  must  be  produced  and  put  into  stock  in  antici- 
pation of  the  fashion  and  demand  of  the  coming  season.  For 
such  reasons  as  these,  the  "entrepreneur  must  exercise  fore- 
sight and  must  take  some  chances  against  which  no  foresight 
can  guard  him.  As  a  result  some  employers  are  ruined,  while 
those  who  remain  in  business  in  general  and  in  the  long  run 
receive  some  gains  which  are  due  in  part  to  foresight  exer- 
cised in  specific  instances,  and  in  part  to  the  general  caution 
which  leads  those  who  invest  large  sums  in  the  hope  of  a 
mere  margin  of  profit  to  allow  for  unforeseen  contingencies. 

It  is  well  for  the  entrepreneur  to  take  these  risks,  for 
such  risks  cannot  be  avoided,  and  the  entrepreneur,  more 
than  any  other,  has  the  knowledge  of  all  the  conditions  in- 
volved that  is  necessary  to  the  exercise  of  the  required  fore- 
sight. Since  he  takes  these  risks  investors  and  wage-earners 
are  in  part  relieved  of  them,  and  their  incomes  are  rendered 
steadier;  besides  society  is  thus  assured  of  a  steady  flow 
of  goods  ready  in  anticipation  of  need.  We  may,  therefore, 
grant  that  a  part  of  the  large  income  of  the  entrepreneur 
which  justice  and  expediency  require  and  which  we  have 
approved,  should  be  regarded  as  reward  for  risk-taking  or 
insurance  against  the  unavoidable  chances  of  business.  While 
some  grow  rich  others  lose  all.  It  seems  just  as  well  as  ex- 
pedient that  the  entrepreneur  be  allowed  to  profit  by  chance 


THE  NECESSITY  OF  SOCIAL  CONTROL  127 

gains  since  he  is  obliged  to  bear  chance  losses.  Both  rates 
of  profit  and  rates  of  interest  include  an  element  of  insurance. 

Gains  of  Organization. — Land,  labor,  and  capital  must  be 
brought  together;  the  various  forms  of  capital  goods  and  the 
various  types  of  labor  must  be  correlated ;  buying  and  selling 
relations  must  be  established.  This  organizing  is  the  charac- 
teristic function  of  the  employer.  The  productiveness  of 
labor  is  as  truly  dependent  upon  organization  as  upon  tools 
and  machinery.  If,  all  other  conditions  being  equal,  given 
amounts  of  investment  and  of  labor  under  one  manager  pro- 
duce $100,000  while  under  another  manager  equal  amounts  of 
investment  and  labor  produce  $200,000,  the  better  manager 
may  be  said  to  "produce  or  create"  the  extra  $100,000  by  his 
superior  ability  and  exertion.  This  $100,000  may  all  be  re- 
garded as  wages  of  management.  It  must  be  so  regarded  if 
it  is  necessary  to  allow  the  manager  to  retain  the  whole  of  it 
in  order  to  induce  him  to  exercise  those  abilities  without 
which  it  would  not  have  been  produced.  But  if  we  have 
been  right  in  holding  that  it  is  possible  to  secure  the  best 
exertions  of  the  best  managers  without  paying  them  so  much 
more  than  is  paid  for  equal  exertion  and  equal  ability  in  other 
callings,  it  remains  for  us  to  consider  whether  it  is  just  to 
advocate  ethical  ideals  or  to  pass  laws  that  will  make  it  impos- 
sible for  managers  to  retain  the  whole  of  that  wealth,  the 
production  of  which  is  dependent  upon  the  exercise  of  their 
abilities. 

Before  we  admit  that  the  labor  of  the  manager  "creates 
or  produces"  all  of  the  additional  $100,000  we  ought  to 
notice  that  there  is  a  difference  between  producing  and  con- 
ditioning. An  express  train  stopped  because  a  nut  had  been 
lost  from  the  machinery  of  its  engine.  Yet  that  nut  did  not 
produce  the  motion  of  the  train.  A  great  factory  stops  be- 
cause a  bar  of  steel  has  broken  in  the  wheel  pit.  Does  that 
imply  that  before  it  broke  that  bar  of  steel  was  creating  all  the 
values  that  ceased  to  be  produced  when  the  bar  broke?  No. 
Those  values  were  produced  by  five  thousand  men  using  a 
million  dollars'  worth  of  capital  goods  of  which  the  bar  of 
steel  was  a  minute  part.  Every  necessary  part  of  a  pro- 


128  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

ducing  organization  derives  importance  and  productivity  from 
all  the  other  parts.  It  cannot  be  said  to  "create"  or  "produce" 
all  the  values  which  it  may  condition.  If  the  broken  bar  of 
steel  be  replaced  by  another  which  is  of  better  shape,  not 
only  than  the  one  that  broke,  but  better  than  the  correspond- 
ing part  in  the  machinery  of  a  rival  factory,  it  may  add 
greatly  to  the  former  productiveness  of  the  five  thousand 
laborers  and  the  million  dollars'  worth  of  machinery  that  work 
together  with  that  bar  of  steel.  But  we  cannot  say  that  the 
whole  of  the  added  output  of  the  five  thousand  laborers  and 
of  the  other  machinery  is  produced  by  the  improvement  in 
the  bar  of  steel.  We  should  say  instead  that  the  added  pro- 
ductivity of  this  factory  and  of  these  laborers  is  conditioned 
by  the  improved  bar  of  steel.  There  is  no  reasonableness 
in  the  claim  that  we  should  pay  for  each  element  in  an 
organization  all  that  would  cease  to  be  produced  if  that  ele- 
ment in  the  organization  were  removed.  That  would  often 
require  the  payment  of  amounts  equal  to  several  times  the 
total  output.  The  very  nature  of  efficient  organization  is  that 
each  factor  not  only  produces  but  also  conditions  added 
productivity  in  all  the  other  factors.  Therefore  there  is 
no  justice  in  the  claim  that  all  the  "gains  of  organization" 
should  go  to  any  one  factor  in  the  organization,  even  though 
the  factor  selected  be  the  organizer.  The  present  power  of 
the  entrepreneur  to  retain  the  "gains  of  organization"  is 
due  to  his  bargaining  power. 

Grains  of  Bargaining  Power. — The  third  element  in  em- 
ployers' profits  is  gained  from  bargaining  power.  When  no 
social  control  limits  the  operation  of  purely  economic  causes, 
it  is  chiefly  bargaining  power,  and  not  justice,  that  deter- 
mines how  much  of  the  product  of  industry  shall  be  retained 
by  the  employer  in  his  capacity  as  the  agent  of  secondary 
distribution. 

The  relative  value  assigned  by  economic  causes  to  the 
part  played  in  organized  industry  by  management  and  other 
labor  depends  largely  upon  their  relative  scarcity.  Bargain- 
ing power  is  with  the  seller  of  that  which  is  scarce  and  the 
buyer  of  that  which  is  plentiful.  The  services  of  the  man- 


THE  NECESSITY  OF  SOCIAL  CONTROL  129 

ager  who  made  a  factory  and  its  laborers  (himself  included) 
produce  $200,000  instead  of  $100,000  are  rare,  while  those 
of  laborers  are  plentiful.  If  laborers  were  few  enough  so 
that  this  manager  had  been  obliged  to  bid  against  other  man- 
agers in  the  same  and  other  industries  in  order  to  get  work- 
men, he  might  have  been  unable  to  keep  all  of  the  extra 
$100,000,  for  he  might  have  been  compelled  to  pay  more 
to  laborers  or  else  go  without  the  labor  necessary  to  the 
production  of  the  extra  $100,000.  Thus  we  see  that  the 
manager's  ability  to  retain  this  great  sum  is  due  to  the  fact 
that  common  labor  is  plentiful,  while  his  services  are  a 
scarce  commodity.  Economic  value  depends  as  much  on 
scarcity  as  upon  utility.1  To  define  utility,  as  is  sometimes 
done,  in  such  a  way  as  to  make  it  inseparable  from  scarcity,2 
and  especially  to  define  the  utility  of  a  man's  service  in 
such  a  way  as  to  confuse  utility  with  market  value  which 
depends  upon  scarcity  is  to  beg  the  whole  question  at  issue. 
By  such  a  definition  of  utility  the  total  utility  of  the  heat 
and  light  of  the  sun  is  less  than  that  of  tallow  candles,  and 
the  total  utility  of  the  atmosphere  is  less  than  that  of  smell- 
ing salts.  The  air  has  no  economic  value  though  its  utility  is 
boundless,  while  a  diamond  as  big  as  the  end  of  a  man's 
thumb  is  worth  a  great  fortune ;  for  air  is  even  more  plentiful 
than  the  labor  of  common  men,  while  such  diamonds  are 
scarcer  than  good  managers. 

We  may  heartily  grant  that  the  work  of  the  manager 
should  be  paid  for  in  proportion  tajts  utility  and  still  deny 
that  justice  requires  that  it  be  paid  for  in  proportion  to  its 
scarcity.  We  may  go  further,  for  it  may  turn  out  that  if  the 

1  "Limitation  upon  the  supply  of  goods  relatively  to  the  need  gives 
value."    H.  J.  Davenport :  Value  and  Distribution.    University  of  Chi- 
cago Press,  1908,  p.  569;  and  economists  in  general. 

2  If  that  definition  of  the  word  "utility"  answers  the  purpose  of 
economic  discussion  it  is  only  because  economic  discussion  deliberately 
excludes  the  ethical  considerations,  which  are  our  chief  concern.    We 
have   the    word    "value"   to    designate   the   utility   which    depends    on 
scarcity,  and  we.  do  not  need  the  word  "utility"  also  to  convey  that 
meaning  half  so  much  as  we  need  it  to  convey  its  full  and  original 
significance. 


130 

work  of  managers  is  paid  for  according  to  its  scarcity  the  work 
of  laborers  cannot  be  paid  for  according  to  its  utility. 

The  scarcity  of  his  services,  which  gives  the  employer 
power  to  retain  so  large  a  share  of  the  increase  in  produc- 
tion which  results  from  organization,  is  far  from  being  en- 
tirely a  difference  between  his  natural  endowment  and  that 
of  other  men.  In  the  first  place  other  interests  than  those 
of  industry  and  money-making  draw  to  themselves  a  large 
proportion  of  the  finest  ability;  this  is  socially  desirable  and 
likely  to  be  increasingly  the  case  in  our  country.  In  the  second 
place,  although  men  of  first-class  business  ability  often  make 
or  discover  opportunity  where  others  would  find  none,  yet 
in  a  large  proportion  of  the  commoner  cases  the  question 
who  shall  be  employer  and  who  shall  be  employed  is  settled 
by  education,  business  openings  due  to  fortunate  connec- 
tions, credit  acquired  by  virtue  of  social  connections  or  by 
success  in  filling  positions  that  were  inaccessible  to  others, 
or  the  inheritance  of  capital.  As  American  society  grows 
older  these  artificial  differences  tend  increasingly  to  be  de- 
termining factors.  However  many  have  the  native  powers 
and  however  widely  we  distribute  opportunity  to  develop 
inborn  powers,  relatively  few  can  exercise  them  in  inde- 
pendent economic  management.  Even  in  the  freest  country 
the  advantages  possessed  by  tolerably  large-scale  industry 
set  a  natural  limit  upon  the  number  of  managerial  positions. 
Managers  of  established  industries  have  often  added  to  this 
natural  limitation  upon  managerial  opportunities  an  artificial 
and  sometimes  dastardly  opposition  to  incipient  competition. 
But  in  the  nature  of  things  the  "scarcity"  which  gives  to 
management  the  power  to  retain  so  great  a  differential 
is  not  wholly  a  scarcity  of  ability  nor  even  of  ability  accom- 
panied by  training,  credit,  and  capital;  it  is  partly  a  scarcity 
of  positions,  which  bears  a  more  or  less  definite  ratio  to  the 
degree  to  which  organization  has  been  perfected. 

Moreover,  we  could  not  admit  the  automatic  justice  of 
the  claims  of  bargaining  power  based  on  scarcity  even  if  it 
were  purely  scarcity  of  natural  ability.  To  admit  that  would 
be  to  admit  that  might  is  right,  and  to  adopt  as  our  maxim 


THE  NECESSITY  OF  SOCIAL  CONTROL  131 

of  justice,  "Let  him  keep  who  can."  We  must  recognize 
that  when  the  Fates  give  to  one  man  a  special  privilege 
which  they  deny  to  others,  that  special  privilege  is  accom- 
panied by  a  special  responsibility,  a  responsibility  which  the 
operation  of  economic  law  does  not  enforce,  which  may 
occasionally  be  enforced  by  conscience  but  which  generally 
must  be  enforced  by  social  control. 

To  summarize,  then:  (i)  The  natural  operation  of  eco- 
nomic tendency  is  not  to  maintain  but  to  destroy  freedom 
of  competition.  In  those  industries  where  it  is  practicable 
and  desirable  to  restore  or  maintain  free  competition  we 
must  depend  for  this  not  on  the  operation  of  economic  tend- 
ency, but  upon  the  exercise  of  social  control. 

(2)  It  is  erroneous  to  assume  that  even  in  those  indus- 
tries in  which  it  is  desirable  and  practicable  to  maintain  free 
competition,  such  competition  will  secure  justice  to  the  labor- 
er.   The  laborer's  share,  if  left  to  the  operation  of  economic 
causes,  depends  upon  bargaining  power  which  has  no  neces- 
sary relation  to  utility  of  the   service   rendered   or   to  any 
other  standard  of  justice. 

(3)  The  excessive  bargaining  power  of  the  employer  is 
based  upon   (a)   the  scarcity  of  managerial  positions  or,  in 
other   words,    the   plenti fulness    of    common    labor   and   the 
concentration  of  management  in  few  hands,  the  number  and 
identity  of  the  managers  being  largely   determined   by   the 
necessities   of   large-scale   organization,   and   by   adventitious 
advantages.     This  power;  whatever  the  ground  on  which  it 
is  held,  is  never  divorced  from  corresponding  responsibility, 
(b)  This  bargaining  power  is  further  based  upon  the  facts 
that  labor  must  be  disposed  of  at  forced  sale;   (c)   that  its 
price  is  not  upheld  by  price  of  production,  and  slack  demand 
does  not  lessen  the  supply;  and  (d)  that  the  laborer  receives 
his   share   only   through   secondary   distribution   out   of    the 
hands  of  the  employer  who  first  receives  the  whole  proceeds 
of  industry. 

Conclusion.— In  conclusion,  the  problem  of  distribution  will 
never  be  settled  by  the  operation  of  economic  laws.  The 
chief  thing  that  the  study  of  economics  has  accomplished 


132  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

in  this  connection  is  to  demonstrate  that  impossibility  and 
so  to  clear  the  grounds  for  the  activities  of  social  control. 
We  are  already  more  or  less  familiar  with  the  fact  that 
tenure  of  land,  water  rights,  and  the  rights  of  widows  and 
children  as  heirs,1  and  the  application  of  the  taxing  power 
are  not  defined  or  secured  by  anything  in  nature,  but  are 
regulated  in  this  way  or  that  according  to  some  adopted 
standard  and  by  some  adopted  method  of  social  procedure. 
Distribution  as  such  is  a  problem  in  social  equity  and  social 
organization.  The  necessary  judgments  of  equity  in  their 
main  outlines  must  be  formed  in  public  opinion  and  en- 
forced by  custom,  morality,  and  law.  The  social  sciences  and 
the  public  opinion  which  they  have  molded  are  hitherto  chre- 
matistic  2  and  not  humanistic.  Economics  as  such  has  often 
frankly  declared  itself  to  be  non-ethical;  it  need  not  continue 
to  be  so.  Sociology  cannot  be  non-ethical  without  being  un- 
scientific. Private  property  has  been  sacred  but  general  wel- 
fare has  not.  This  must  be  reversed.  Not  indeed  that  we 
should  have  less  respect  for  law,  including  the  laws  that  define 
property  rights,  as  laws  must  always  do,  but  rather  that  laws 
should  be  made  more  respectable.  Law  itself  is  sacred  and 
when  changed  it  must  be  changed  by  legal  methods — but  par- 
ticular laws  are  fallible  and  changeable,  and  law  is  not  greater 
than  society  that  makes  it,  or  than  the  good  or  evil  for  the  sake 
of  which  it  exists. 

A  chrematistic  system  of  law  may  possibly  have  been 
justifiable  during  the  period  in  which  the  greatest  problem  was 
that  of  developing  methods  of  production,  but  it  has  be- 
come intolerable  and  indefensible,  now  that  the  problem  of 
discovering  a  system  of  distribution  has  surpassed  in  impor- 
tance that  of  further  promoting  methods  of  production.  The 
problem  now  pressing  can  be  successfully  approached  only 
from  the  ethical  or  humanistic  point  of  view.  Society  must 
develop  for  itself  a  new  system  of  .legislation  wrought  out 
with  an  eye  single  to  the  values  realized  in  human  experience. 

1  The  law  of  primogeniture  is  an  exceedingly  glaring  instance  of 
distribution  by  social  convention. 

*  That  is,  money-making,  materialistic. 


CHAPTER  IX 

HOW  MAY  SOCIETY  REGULATE  THE  DISTRIBUTION   OF 

WEALTH? 

Public  Opinion  and  Law. — If  we  adopt  the  view  that  it  will 
be  necessary  to  depend  upon  some  form  of  social  control 
in  order  to  modify  our  intolerable  state  of  economic  injus- 
tice, which  the  natural  operation  of  "economic  laws"  is  power- 
less to  correct,  the  momentous  question  before  us  is:  What 
kind  of  social  control  will  accomplish  this  end?  Two  kinds 
of  social  control  can  be  considered.  First,  is  the  gradual 
development  of  a  public  opinion  and  sentiment  which  will 
both  mold  the  character  of  our  citizens  so  that  their  own 
ambitions  and  consciences  will  secure  from  many  the  con- 
duct that  is  adapted  to  the  requirements  of  modern  industrial 
and  social  conditions,  and  which  also,  with  or  without  enact- 
ment into  law,  will  exert  a  tremendous  social  pressure  upon 
those  who  might  otherwise  continue  to  transgress  those  re- 
quirements. We  must  not  forget  that  this  molding  of  indi- 
viduality into  fatness  for  membership  in  an  advanced  social 
regime,  together  with  the  pressure  exercised  by  public  opinion 
and  sentiment,  constitute  the  most  fundamental  form  of  social 
control  and  are  more  important  even  for  this  task  of  economic 
transformation  than  legislation  can  be.  It  is  more  important 
than  legislation  by  virtue  of  its  own  direct  results  together 
with  the  fact  that  it  alone  will  insure  the  passage  and  enforce- 
ment of  the  necessary  legislation.  No  one  need  expect  legis- 
lation to  accomplish  wonders  in  promoting  democratic  justice 
unless  legislative  progress  is  part  and  parcel  in  a  moral  prog- 
ress of  the  people,  a  progress,  that  is,  in  judgments  and  senti- 
ments in  reference  to  their  own  conduct  a,s  well  as  the  con- 
duct of  others.1  Such  progress  is  to  be  wrought  by  all  the 

1  The  following  passage  from  President  Hadley  makes  him  seem 
to  undervalue  the  function  of  pure  self-defense,  and  of  the  righteous- 

133 


134 

agencies  of  investigation  and  enlightenment,  by  methods  that 
will  grow  more  intelligible  as  we  proceed  with  the  study 
of  the  evolution  of  morality  and  social  control.  At  the  same 
time  we  must  experiment  cautiously  and  courageously  in  the 
framing  of  laws  in  order  that  legislation  may  advance  as 
steadily  as  public  opinion  justifies,  remembering  also  that  the 
relation  between  public  opinion  and  legislation  is  in  a  measure 
reciprocal,  for  while  effective  legislation  must  be  an  expres- 

ness  of  the  untempted.  Nevertheless,  the  establishment  of  social 
justice  does  depend  upon  the  presence  of  a  group  whose  disinterested 
justice  can  shame  the  Devil,  and  who  can  wield  the  balance  of  power 
between  selfish  contestants. 

"Most  people  object  to  trusts.  Why?  Largely  because  they  do 
not  own  them.  If  a  man  really  believes  that  a  trust  is  a  bad  thing  and 
would  refuse  to  countenance  its  pursuits  if  he  were  given  a  majority 
Jnterest  in  its  stock,  he  can  fairly  dignify  his  spirit  of  opposition  to 
trusts  by  the  title  of  public  sentiment.  And  it  may  be  added  'that  if 
things  are  done  by  trusts  or  by  any  other  forms  of  economic  organiza- 
tion which  arouse  this  sort  of  disinterested  opposition,  they  speedily 
work  their  own  cure.  If  a  considerable  number  of  influential  men  [not 
all  the  culprits,  of  course]  see  the  pernicious  effects  of  a  business  prac- 
tice sufficiently  to  condemn  it  in  themselves  as  well  as  in  others,  they 
can  speedily  restrict,  if  they  cannot  wholly  prevent,  its  continuance. 
Most  of  the  effective  control  of  combinations  of  capital  has  been,  in 
fact,  brought  about  by  intelligent  public  opinion  slowly  acting  in  this 
way.  If,  however,  the  critic  is  doing  on  a  small  scale  what  the  trust 
is  practising  on  a  large  scale;  if,  in  short,  he  simply  complains  of  the 
practices  of  the  trusts  because  he  is  at  the  wrong  end  of  certain  impor- 
tant transactions,  and  becomes  their  victim  instead  of  their  beneficiary, 
then  his  words  count  for  nothing.  No  matter  how  many  thousands  of 
men  there  may  be  in  his  position,  their  aggregate  work  is  not  likely  to 
reach  farther  than  the  passage  of  a  certain  amount  of  ill-considered 
r.nd  inoperative  legislation.  It  cannot  be  too  often  repeated  that  those 
opinions  which  a  man  is  prepared  to  maintain  at  another's  cost,  but  not 
at  his  own,  count  for  little  in  forming  the  general  sentiment  of  a  com- 
munity, or  in  producing  any  effective  public  movement.  They  are  man- 
ifestations of  boastfulness,  or  envy,  or  selfishness,  rather  than  of  that 
public  spirit  which  is  an  essential  constituent  in  all  true  public  opinion. 

"There  are  some  moralists  who  would  deny  the  possibility  of  any 
such  public  opinion  which  should  be  independent  of  selfishness,  and 
which  should  rise  above  personal  interests.  But  they  have  the  facts  of 
history  against  them."  President  A.  I.  Hadley:  Education  of  the 
American  Citizen,  Yale  University  Press,  1913,  p.  25. 


SOCIAL  REGULATION  OF  DISTRIBUTION          135 

sion  of  public  opinion,  it  is  also  one  of  the  agencies,  though 
only  one,  in  the  formation  of  public  opinion. 

"Trust-Busting." — It  would  be  an  empty  pretense  to  claim 
that  our  distorted  distribution  of  wealth  conforms  to  any 
principle  of  merit  or  justice.  Its  right  is  might.  Its  might 
is  due  to  the  differences  necessitated  by  organization.  Should 
we  attempt  to  destroy  this  might,  or  can  we  compel  it  to 
be  just? 

The  talk  about  "busting  the  trusts"  of  which  so  much 
has  been  heard  is  probably  folly.  The  unscrupulous  among 
the  magnates  may  even  have  fostered  such  discussion  as  a 
means  of  throwing  dust  in  people's  eyes  and  obscuring  real 
issues.  What  we  want  first  of  all  is  efficient  production, 
then  just  distribution  of  the  product.  We  have  secured  the 
efficiency  of  production  by  means  of  a  high  degree  of  organi- 
zation. What  we  now  need  is  not  to  destroy  the  efficient 
producer  because  he  keeps  an  undue  share  of  the  product, 
but  to  retain  the  efficiency  and  add  to  efficiency  in  produc- 
tion justice  in  distribution.  We-  should  not  desire  to  go 
back  to  the  wasteful  war  of  universal  competition.  The 
elimination  of  the  small  producer  in  so  far  as  it  means  get- 
ting the  whole  supply  of  any  staple  from  the  factories  that 
are  most  favorably  located  with  reference  to  raw  materials 
and  markets,  most  effectively  correlated  with  the  whole  sys- 
tem of  allied  industries,  most  efficiently  managed  and  most 
completely  rid  of  the  wastes  of  small-scale  production  and 
possessing  the  advantages  of  large-scale  production  and  com- 
prehensive organization,  is  to  that  degree  a  survival  of  the 
fittest,  a  saving  of  the  national  resources,  and  an  increase  of 
the  product  to  be  divided.  The  trusts  have  often  lowered 
prices  and  raised  wages  notwithstanding  they  have  kept  for 
themselves  vast  profits;  and  the  very  fact  of  the  vast  profits 
is  the  ground  for  hope  that  more  may  ultimately  be  secured 
for  labor. 

Let  m,  n,  o,  p,  q,  r,  s,  t,  u,  v,  w  designate  eleven  fac- 
tories engaged  in  the  manufacture  of  the  same  product.  Sup- 
pose the  first  five  to  possess  the  advantages  of  favorable 
location,  abundant  capital,  comprehensive  business  relations, 


136 


INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 


valuable  patent  rights  and  highly  efficient  management,  the 
next  three,  designated  r,  s,  t,  to  be  prosperous  in  a  more 
modest  way,  and  u,  v,  w  to  be  marginal  producers.  In  the 
figure  below  let  the  verticals  terminating  in  the  irregular  line 
cd  represent  the  necessary  cost  of  producing  a  given  amount 
of  output  in  each  of  these  factories,,  and  these  verticals  pro- 
longed to  ab  represent  the  price  for  which  that  product 
will  sell.  Then  the  dotted  lines  between  cd  and  ab  will  rep- 
resent the  differentials  between  cost  of  production  and  price 
for  these  factories.  It  is  plain  that  if  the  price  level  should 
permanently  fall  but  very  slightly  factories  u,  v,  w  must  cease 
business,  for  their  cost  of  production,  including  necessary 
wages  of  superintendence,  almost  exactry  equals  price,  so 


i 

t 

^^_ 

— 

1 

r~ 

,  

• 

h  — 

? 
^ 

^ 

that  these  factories  produce  no  appreciable  differential.  If 
the  price  level  should  fall  to  a'b',  factories  r,  s,  t  must  also 
go  out  of  business,  and  the  industry  would  then  be  monopo- 
lized by  factories  m,  n,  o,  p,  q  which  probably  would  com- 
bine their  management  to  avoid  a  war  of  extermination  among 
giants.  They  may  shut  down  q,  the  plant  that  has  least 
advantages.  The  remaining  factories  still  have  a  differential, 
represented  by  the  dotted  lines  below  a'b'  which  might  be 
used  in  increasing  wages.  These  great  concerns  may  now 
put  up  the  price  again,  but  not  too  much  lest  they  should 
invite  new  and  powerful  competitors  into  the  field,  or  cause 
the  demand  for  their  output  to  fall  off  too  much.  The  public 
should  desire,  not  to  break  up  these  great  concerns  but,  first, 
to  prevent  them  from  raising  prices  and,  second,  to  compel 
them  to  share  the  differential  with  their  laborers. 


SOCIAL  REGULATION  OF  DISTRIBUTION        137 


Will  the  Amount  That  Now  Forms  the  Differential  Be  Pro- 
duced if  Part  of  It  Is  Diverted  to  Labor? — Is  it  possible  to 
compel  the  captains  of  industry  to  share  the  differential  with 
the  laborers? 

We  are  at  once  confronted  with  the  objection  that  if  the 
differential  is  to  be  turned  over  to  the  laborers  it  will  not  be 
produced.  This  objection  is  met  if  the  increased  share  of  labor 
can  be  added  to  the  necessary  cost  of  production  so  that  it 


a 


ManooerS  Share 


Necessary  Wages 


Pifferent/d! 


h' 


must  be  paid  before  any  differential  can  be  retained  by  the 
employer.  In  that  case  the  line  cd  (page  136)  would  be 
raised  to  c'd'  and  that  part  of  the  former  differential  which 
lies  between  cd  and  c'd'  would  go  to  labor,  and  in  our  former 
diagram  gh  would  be  forced  down  to  g'h'  giving  labor  a 


138  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

thicker  slice  and  diminishing  the  amount  of  that  differential 
which  escapes  from  secondary  distribution.  This  can  be 
accomplished  by  a  combination  of  measures. 

We  must  avoid  overestimating  the  change  in  the  condi- 
tion of  laborers  that  would  result  from  a  fair  division  of 
the  differential.  According  to  Professor  Ely,1  "we  do  not 
know  whether,  if  the  national  income  were  equally  distrib- 
uted, a  family  of  five  persons  would  have  $800  or  $1,600 
to  spend."  Dr.  King  in  his  more  recent  work,  issued  under 
the  editorship  of  Professor  Ely,  estimates  that  we  produce 
an  annual  income  "of  some  $332  per  capita,  or  about  $1,500 
per  family."  2  This  income  cannot  be  divided  equally. 

Average  profits  of  entrepreneurs  are  only  a  little  more  than 
half  again  as  large  as  average  wages.3  But  in  this  statement 
all  the  millions  of  farmers,  shop-keepers,  inn-keepers  and  the 
like,  including  the  one-mule  negro  farmers  of  the  South,  are 
included  as  entrepreneurs,  and  an  average  that  includes  such 
men  with  the  United  States  Steel  Corporation  and  the  Stand- 
ard Oil  Company  is  meaningless.  Yet,  even  on  that  basis,  if 
one-fourth  of  all  profits  were  transferred  to  the  necessary  cost 
of  production  and  used  in  the  interest  of  labor  it  would  be 
equivalent  to  an  addition  of  almost  fifteen  per  cent,  to  wages 
and  salaries.4  Manufacturers  have  far  larger  average  profits 
than  "all  entrepreneurs."  According  to  the  census  of  1910, 
manufacturing  establishments  had  an  average  differential  profit 
of  about  $8,350.  This  would  be  reduced  if  depreciation  of 
plant  (minus  appreciation  of  land)  were  deducted.  The  result 
after  that  deduction  would  be  pure  differential  profit.  In  the 
case  of  the  great  corporations,  some  addition  to  the  reported 
profits  may  be  concealed  in  the  item  reported  as  salaries.  Such 
statements  of  the  average  profits  of  manufacturers,  however, 

1  Ely :     Outlines  of  Economics,  Macmillan,  1914,  p.  104. 

8  Wealth  and  Income  of  the  People  of  the  United  States,  page  248. 

*  Average  wages  according  to  King  are  $507,  average  profits  $899. 

*  It  would  add  a  considerably  larger  per  cent,  to  the  income  of 
labor  if  the  highly  salaried  managers  did  not   share   in  the  benefit. 
According  to   King,   46.9  per   cent,   of   the  national    income   goes   to 
wages  and  salaries,  27.5  per  cent,  to  profits.    One-fourth  of  the  latter 
is  almost  fifteen  per  cent,  of  the  former. 


SOCIAL  REGULATION  OF  DISTRIBUTION        139 

have  only  a  little  more  significance  than  the  statement  of  aver- 
age profits  for  all  entrepreneurs,  for  it  places  in  one  class 
the  hugest  establishments  together  with  great  numbers  of  tiny 
shops  where,  for  example,  a  cigar  maker  works  beside  his 
one  employee.  Such  an  average  conceals  the  amount  of  profits 
in  great  establishments.  We  do  not  know  the  size  of  the  differ- 
ential that  ought  to  be  shared  with  labor.  But  we  know  that 
there  are  great  sums  that  ought  to  be  divided,  and  that  a  mod- 
erate percentage  of  present  wages  added  to  the  income  of  a 
family  as  a  margin  of  increase  makes  a  comparatively  great 
difference  in  their  status;  and  that  many  families  and  indi- 
viduals sink  below  the  poverty  line,  and  many  others  miss 
opportunities  of  life  they  might  have  entered,  for  lack  of  the 
margin  of  income. 

1.  Factory  Legislation. — This  should  require  reasonable 
hours  of  labor  for  men 1  and  should  especially  limit  the 
labor  of  women  and  children.  It  should  require  the  safe- 
guarding of  machinery  and  dangerous  processes,  and  in  cer- 
tain places  the  provision  of  first  aid  for  the  injured.  It  should 
require  sanitary  conditions  in  places  of  labor,  preventing 
so  far  as  practicable  dangerous  degrees  of  temperature  and 
humidity  and  providing  for  removal  of  dust  and  fumes  by( 
suction  pipes,  etc. 

Such  legislation  does  not  directly  put  money  into  the 
laborer's  pocket,  but  it  does  compel  the  employer  to  expend 
money  for  the  benefit  of  the  laborer  and  to  forego  a  part 
t>f  the  excessive  income  derived  from  labor,  and  secures  highly 
needful  results  which  could  not  be  attained  by  paying  the 
money  directly  to  the  workmen.  In  the  past  such  legislation 
has  been  opposed  by  employers,  and  at  some  points  is  still 
resisted.  But  it  is  a  justice  to  the  best  employers,  for  it 
forces  competitors  who  are  less  well  disposed,  to  live  up  to  a 
standard  to  which  the  best  of  employers  now  willingly  con- 
form.2 

1  What  is  constitutional,  in  the  end,  will  be  what  public  opinion 
holds  to  be  required  by  the  general  welfare. 

2  Miss  Tarbell  regards  the  new  model  factory  as  the  most  inter- 
esting architectural  development  in  this  country.     "Welfare  arrange- 


140  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

2.  Tenement  Laws  and  City  Planning. — These  diminish 
the  gains  of  real-estate  holders  but  secure  far  more  than  com- 
pensating advantages  to  tenants,  and  to  society  as  a  whole.1 

3.  Employers'  Liability,  Compensation  and  Industrial  In- 
surance Laws. — According  to  the  common  law  an  employer 
was  excused  from  legal  requirement  to  compensate  an  em- 
ployee or  the  surviving  family  of  an  employee  injured  in  his 
works,  on  either  of  the  following  grounds,  the  application  of 
which  has  been  limited  by  statutory  enactment  in  some  states 
and  should  be  in  all. 

1.  The  Fellow  Servant  Doctrine.     If  the  injury  were  due 
to  the  fact  that  a  fellow  employee  did  something  which  caused 
the  accident,  or  neglected  to  do  something  which  would  have 
prevented  it,  the  employer  was  excused  from  making  com- 
pensation.   This  was  reasonable  when  a  few  men  worked  in 
a  little  shop  where  all  were  under  the  superintendence  of 
each,  but  it  is  absurd  now  that  thousands  are  employed  by 
the  same  factory  or  railroad,  and  the  lives  of  men  are  hourly 
dependent  upon  the  faithfulness  of  fellow  employees  whom 
they  cannot  see  and  may  never  have  seen.    Effective  superin- 
tendence can  now  be  maintained  only  by  the  management  and 
for    such    superintendence    the    management    must   be    held 
responsible. 

2.  The  Doctrine  of  Assumption  of  Risk.    The  employer 
was  excused  from  responsibility  if  it  could  be  shown  that 

ments  of  all  kinds,"  she  says,  "are  becoming  as  much  a  concern  of 
architects  and  builders  of  industrial  establishments  as  foundations  and 
lights."  She  could  give  personal  stories  of  great  numbers,  "who  by 
their  changed  conditions  of  work  have  been  transformed ;  of  girls 
transfigured  from  slatterns  to  clean  and  tidy  decency;  of  women  whose 
bitter  revolt  at  work  performed  in  ugly  and  filthy  disorder  has  been 
changed  to  cheerful  interest ;  of  men  who  have  given  «up  the  saloon. 

"It  is  hardly  too  much  to  say  that  these  new  industrial  ideas  are 
producing  an  entirely  new  type  of  employer;  one  who  is  almost  as 
much  of  an  educator  as  he  is  a  maker  of  things;  almost  as  much  a 
friend  of  men  as  he  is  a  'boss.'  He  has  discovered  that  no  man  or 
woman  can  reach  and  keep  the  point  of  efficiency  which  scientific 
business  requires  unless  he  is  healthy,  content,  and  growing.  How  to 
keep  men  and  women  well  and  happy  is  part  of  his  business." 

1  Compare  sections  on  pp.  87  and  93. 


SOCIAL  REGULATION  OF  DISTRIBUTION        141 

the  injured  man  was  aware  of  the  particular  risk  he  ran. 
The  more  glaring  the  neglect  to  provide  for  safety,  the  more 
obvious  the  defect  in  machinery,  the  clearer  the  defense  of 
the  employer  against  the  responsibility  for  injuries.  The  theory 
was  that  the  workman  is  free  to  accept  or  reject  the  employ- 
ment with  all  its  dangers,  and  if  he  accepts  or  continues  in 
such  employment  when  knowing  its  danger  to  himself  then 
he  alone  is  responsible  for  his  injury.  This  theory  is  con- 
trary to  the  facts.  There  is  other  compulsion  than  legal 
compulsion,  enforced  by  other  penalties  than  fine  and  im- 
prisonment. The  laborer  is  compelled  to  accept  such  em- 
ployment as  he  can  get  and  is  powerless  to  remove  dangers 
which  he  may  see  and  deplore. 

3.  The  Doctrine  of  Implied  Risk.  The  employer  was 
not  responsible  for  injuries  that  resulted  from  the  nature  of 
the  industry.  Here  the  doctrine  of  the  assumption  of  risks 
applied  not  to  an  occasional  danger  but  to  an  ever-present 
peril. 

The  Modern  View.1 — The  modern  view  is  that  if  maiming 
and  death  are  a  part  of  the  cost  of  carrying  on  an  industry, 
then  out  of  the  proceeds  of  that  industry  some  recompense 
must  be  made  to  the  injured  laborer  or  to  his  survivors. 
Experience  and  statistics  show  that  the  prosecution  of  cer- 
tain industries  requires  not  only  the  constant  effort  of  labor- 
ers— that  is,  work — but  also  the  actual  destruction  of  a  per- 
centage of  the  working  power  by  accident  and  untoward  con- 
ditions. Unless  such  an  industry  by  means  of  pensions  or 
indemnities  can  restore  the  income-yielding  capacity  which 
it  thus  destroys,  its  output  is  not  paying  for  the  cost  of  pro- 
duction. In  so  far  as  it  yields  an  income  to  the  employer  at 
the  cost  of  terminating  income  to  the  laborers  there  is  no 
net  gain,  but  only  transference  of  income  from  the  injured 
to  another,  which  is  somewhat  like  robbing  the  murdered 
or  the  maimed  and  is  socially  intolerable.  A  part  of  the 
raw  material  required  by  industry  is  human  flesh  and  it 
must  be  paid  for  if  the  proceeds  of  the  industry  are  to  cover 
the  cost  of  their  production,  not  indeed  paid  for  as  a  living 

1  Compare  statutes  of  Massachusetts  and  New  York. 


142  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

substance  the  destruction  of  which  costs  pain  and  bereave- 
ment, but  paid  for  merely  as  an  income  yielding  asset. 

This  payment  is  not  made  by  the  employer  out  of  his 
personal  income  as  a  participant  in  the  industry,  but  it  is  a 
disbursement  made  by  him  as  the  agent  of  secondary  distri- 
bution, and  it  is  difficult  to  see  how  he  has  any  more  ethical 
right  to  withhold  it  than  he  has  to  withhold  payment  of  the 
price  of  raw  material  or  the  interest  on  capital.  If  he  can- 
not make  his  industry  yield  these  sums  his  industry  is  failing 
to  pay  for  what  it  consumes.  It  may  be  objected  that' if  this 
were  granted  then  a  great  accident  might  at  any  moment 
bring  a  ruinous  unforeseen  expense  upon  any  small  employer. 
The  reply  to  this  is  that  such  a  requirement  could  not  be 
made  upon  the  occasional  employer  of  labor,  but  only  upon 
the  regular  employer  of  labor,  and  if  it  were  enforced  upon 
every  considerable  regular  employer  of  labor,  then  it  would 
become  a  part  of  the  normal  cost  of  production  to  carry  insur- 
ance against  the  losses  of  working  power  as  well  as  against 
losses  by  fire. 

It  may  also  be  objected  that  dangerous  labor  is  highly 
paid,  and  ought  to  insure  itself  against  accidents,  for  by 
the  high  wages  the  employer  has  discharged  his  responsibility. 
Here  a  question  of  fact  is  involved;  in  so  far  as  wages  are 
advanced  for  this  cause  there  is  justice  in  the  objection. 
Implied  risks  of  a  tragic  and  startling  character  often  raise 
wages  to  some  degree;  those  of  an  insidious  character  that 
gradually  undermine  the  health  as  a  rule  do  not  raise  wages. 
In  fact  compulsory  industrial  insurance  was  applied  to  the 
breaking  of  health  before  it  was  extended  to  accident.1 

An  important  incidental  result  of  adequate  compensation 
and  insurance  laws  is  diminution  in  the  number- of  accidents 
among  laborers.  When  employers  must  insure  against  the 

1  The  benefits  of  insurance  against  illness  are  even  greater  than 
those  of  insurance  against  accident. 

No  good  thing  invented  by  man  is  free  from  all  dangers  or  abuses ; 
under  compulsory  insurance  a  certain  amount  of  malingering  may  be  ' 
practiced,  and  carelessness  as  to  very  minor  accidents  may  be  some- 
what increase^ 


SOCIAL  REGULATION  OF  DISTRIBUTION         143 

loss  of  earning  power  due  to  these  causes  they  take  measures 
to  prevent  such  loss  quite  as  effective  as  those  which  they 
adopt  to  diminish  danger  from  fire.  Experience  has  shown 
that  this  means  of  enforcing  proper  labor  conditions  in  these 
respects  is  often  more  effective  than  the  system  of  direct 
legislation  and  inspection  devised  for  that  end. 

An  effective  compensation  law  must  specify  the  condi- 
tions of  payment  so  definitely  that  there  will  ordinarily  be 
no  more  occasion  for  an  injured  laborer  or  his  family  to 
sue  for  indemnity  than  there  is  for  the  beneficiary  of  an 
insurance  company  to  do  so.  The  payment  must  become 
mandatory  without  suit  upon  establishment  of  the  specified 
facts.  Otherwise  the  insurance  taken  out  by  employers  is 
largely  used  up  in  fighting  against  the  payment  of  compensa- 
tion, and  while  great  sums  are  expended,  little  goes  to  the 
injured,  especially  where  statutes  do  not  limit  or  abolish 
the  application  of  the  old  common  law  defenses  against 
employers'  liability.  The  net  result  is  largely  litigation  or 
acceptance  of  pittances  by  the  injured  to  avoid  undertaking 
the  expense  of  litigation  which  the  injured  laborer  or  his 
widow  is  ill  prepared  to  bear,  and  embitterment  of  relations 
between  the  laboring  and  employing  classes. 

A  compensation  law  adequate  in  its  provisions  and  result- 
ing in  practically  universal  insurance  of  large  employers 
against  losses  by  destruction  of  labor  power  through  indus- 
trial accident  is  a  near  approach  to  "compulsory  labor  in- 
surance," though  the  statute  may  make  no  mention  of  "insur- 
ance." Insurance  of  all  laborers  employed  in  industries  men- 
tioned by  statute  is  directly  required  by  law  in  most  of  the 
advanced  industrial  nations  except  the  United  States.1  Com- 
pensation laws  2  refer  only  to  losses  by  accident.  While  this 

1  See  W.  F.  Willoughby :  Workingmen's  Insurance,  New  York, 
1898;  C.  R.  Henderson:  Industrial  Insurance  in  the  United  States, 
Chicago,  1909;  and  American  Labor  Legislation  Review,  Vol.  Ill, 
No.  2,  New  York,  1913. 

3  Several  states  have  recently  passed  laws  of  this  kind ;  that  of 
Illinois  may  be  studied  as  one  of  the  best  examples.  Claims  under  the 
Illinois  laws  are  settled  by  a  state  industrial  accident  board.  Any 
employer  in  the  class  to  which  the  law  applies  may  relieve  himself  of, 


144  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

cause  of  loss  is  so  sensational  as  first  to  draw  public  atten- 
tion, yet  the  losses  and  suffering  from  this  cause  are  far 
less  than  those  from  sickness,  and  there  is  greater  need  of 
labor  insurance  against  sickness,  unemployment  and  old  age. 

The  principle  of  compulsory  insurance  of  workingmen  was 
adopted  by  Germany  in  1883.  It  first  provided  for  sick 
benefits  including  free  medical  attendance,  which  insures  a 
skillful  effort  to  restore  the  earning  power  and  prevent  pro- 
longation or  permanence  of  disability,  together  with  a  weekly 
cash  allowance,  and  a  special  addition  in  case  death  super- 
venes. A  little  later  two  laws  were  passed  providing  for 
accident  insurance,  the  income  of  which  commences  after 
the  period  during  which  sick  benefits  are  allowed  has  ex- 
pired, and  which  provides,  in  case  of  death,  besides  the  regular 
funeral  allowance,  a  pension  to  dependent  relatives  up  to 
60  per  cent,  of  the  daily  wages  of  the  deceased.  In  1889 
pensions  for  old  age  and  permanent  disability  were  added 
to  the  German  system  of  laborers'  insurance. 

The  premiums  for  the  support  of  these  various  forms 
of  compulsory  insurance  should  be  exacted  from  three  sources. 
A  part,  especially  for  sick  benefits,  should  be  collected  from 
the  laborers  in  the  form  of  a  slight  percentage  deducted  be- 
fore the  wages  are  paid ;  a  part,  especially  for  accident  in- 
surance, should  be  collected  from  the  employers;  and  a  part, 
especially  for  pensions,  may  properly  be  contributed  by  the 
state.  This  is  just,  since  the  public,  the  employers,  and  all 
the  laborers  benefit  by  the  maintenance  of  the  industry,  while 
the  heaviest  physical  cost  of  the  industry  falls  at  any  given 

its  operation  by  sending  the  board  written  notice  of  his  decision  not 
to  abide  by  it,  but  he  is  then  debarred  from  defending  himself  against 
suit  for  damages  on  the  ground  of  assumed  risk,  contributory  negli- 
gence, or  negligence  of  a  fellow  servant.  Although  the  awards  of  the 
board  to  injured  laborers  and  their  families  have  been  liberal,  only 
about  one-eighth  of  the  employers  in  dangerous  trades  have  with- 
drawn from  the  operation  of  the  law,  while  an  equal  number  of  em- 
ployers whose  works  do  not  fall  in  the  class  to  which  the  law  applies, 
including  the  largest  employers  in  the  state,  have  availed  themselves 
of  the  privilege  of  placing  their  industry  voluntarily  under  its  pro- 
visions. 


SOCIAL  REGULATION  OF  DISTRIBUTION        145 

time  upon  a  few  of  the  laborers  who  with  their  families  are 
crushed  by  the  burden  unless  it  is  in  a  measure  distributed 
over  a  larger  number  of  those  for  whom  the  industry  exists 
and  who  benefit  by  having  the1  risks  of  the  industry  incurred. 
The  advantage  to  the  laborers  resulting  from  compulsory 
insurance  is  far  greater  than  would  result  from  adding  the 
amount  of  the  premiums  to  current  wages.  It  is  "compul- 
sory," as  Professor  Henderson  remarks,  only  in  the  sense  in 
which  our  common  schools  are  "compulsory";  it  is  an  act 
of  social  cooperation  on  the  part  of  the  entire  community. 

At  the  outset  there  was  antagonism  in  Germany  against 
compulsory  industrial  insurance,  but  after  nearly  a  genera- 
tion of  experience  all  political  parties  favor  it.  It  has  dimin- 
ished poverty,  largely  substituted  justice  for  "charity,"  and 
contributed  to  the  great  prosperity  which  the  empire  has 
experienced  during  recent  years.  Following  Germany,  the 
principle  of  legally  required  insurance  has  now  been  adopted 
by  Austria  Hungary,  Italy,  .Belgium,  France,  Norway,  Den- 
mark, Finland,  Holland,  Luxemburg  and  Great  Britain. 

4.  The  Socialization  of  Wealth  by  Taxation. — The  people 
through  their  governmental  agencies  haVe  the  power  to  take 
possession  of  the  wealth  of  individual  citizens  and  expend 
it  in  the  interest  of  the  many.  This  is  the  most  essential 
function  of  sovereignty.  It  may  be  abused ;  the  majority  may 
become  the  greatest  of  robbers ;  they  may  exercise  the  taxing 
power  in  such  a  way  as  to  discourage  industry  and  so  dry 
up  the  sources  from  which  wealth  is  derived,  reducing  the 
whole  land  to  poverty.  Taxation  is  a  great  agency  in  the 
distribution  of  wealth,  and  when  the  distribution  resulting 
from  the  natural  play  of  primary  and  secondary  distribution 
is  unsatisfactory  an  extensive  redistribution  of  wealth  by 
taxation  would  be  entirely  possible.  The  masses  of  the  people 
have  never  understood  the  subject  of  taxation  and  taxation 
has  generally  operated  in  such  a  way  as  to  make  the  injustice 
in  the  distribution  of  wealth  greater  instead  of  making  it 
less  as  it  readily  might  do. 

There  are  two  chief  questions  in  respect  to  the  taxing 
policy  of  a  nation:  first,  how  much  shall  be  raised;  second, 


146  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

from  whom  shall  it  be  collected?  In  the  United  States  very 
much  more  might  be  taken  by  taxation  and  applied  to  public 
uses,  such  as  schools,  libraries,  museums,  art  galleries,  con- 
certs, lectures,  the  drama,  parks,  playgrounds  and  recreation 
centers,  city  planning  and  housing,  hospitals,  convalescent 
homes,  rural  roads,  scientific  research,  etc.  The  successful 
expenditure  of  vaster  sums  of  public  money '  would  depend 
upon  the  development  of  sufficiently  honest  and  able  adminis- 
tration. 

The  other  pressing  question  is  who  shall  pay  the  money 
secured  by  taxation.  It  is  a  great  mistake  to  think  that  the 
poor  upon  whom  no  assessor  calls  pays  no  taxes.  Most  of 
our  taxes  are  now  indirect,  that  is,  they  are  finally  paid  not 
by  the  person  upon  whom  they  are  assessed  but  by  someone 
else  to  whom  the  nominal  payer  shifts  the  burden.  Thus  the 
tenant  pays  the  taxes  on  his  tenement,  and  the  price  paid  by 
the  consumer  for  every  commodity  on  which  there  has  been 
an  import  duty  or  an  internal  revenue  tax  includes  the  tax ; 
and  large  quantities  of  goods  have  their  prices  raised  as  if 
they  had  paid  an  import  tax  and  the  extra  price  goes  to  a 
producer  in  this  country,  and  this  results  from  the  character 
of  our  existing  tax  laws.  Duties  and  internal  revenue  taxes 
go  to  the  treasury  of  the  national  government;  the  income 
of  state  and  local  governments  is  mainly  derivable  from  real 
estate  and  "personal  property."  Real  estate  cannot  evade 
taxation.  Personal  property  can.  Under  existing  laws  the 
owner  of  a  home  in  village  or  city  cannot  escape  the  payment 
of  an  unjust  proportion  of  the  public  revenues,  while  the 
owner  of  personal  property  can  escape.  Personal  property 
consists  (i)  of  consumption  goods  (or  goods  that  yield 
no  money  income,  but  only  the  satisfaction  derived  from 
their  use,  such  as  furniture,  pianos,  jewelry  and  the  like)  5(2) 
similar  goods  held  for  sale  or  rental;  (3)  buildings,  machin- 
ery, tools  or  animals  employed  in  industry;  (4)  money,  and 
(5)  securities,  that  is,  stocks,  bonds,  notes  and  mortgages. 
The  vast  accumulations  of  the  rich  which  escape  taxation 
are  mainly  in  the  form  of  securities,  especially  the  stocks  and 
bonds  of  corporations.  As  a  rule  no  one  can  know  how 


SOCIAL  REGULATION  OF  DISTRIBUTION         147 

many  stocks  and  bonds  another  private  individual  has  in 
his  safety-deposit  box  unless  the  information  is  voluntarily 
given.  For  this  reason  a  just  tax  on  such  property  cannot 
be  forced ;  a  tax  is  essentially  a  forced  payment ;  therefore 
such  property  in  the  hands  of  the  private  individual  is  not 
taxable  and  the  attempt  to  tax  it  is  a  farce.  It  is  worse  than 
a  farce.  The  owner  of  securities  is  forced  to  choose  between 
a  lie  and  an  'injustice.  If  he  makes  the  statement  required 
by  the  assessor  a  true  one  he  does  himself  an  injustice,  for 
justice  in  taxation  is  proportionate  uniformity,  and  if  he 
discloses  his  possessions  he  pays  disproportionately  so  long 
as  the  majority  of  similar  possessions  escape  taxation.  As 
a  rule  he  prefers  the  lie  and  receives  the  premium  which  the 
law  places  upon  falsehood.  Thereafter  he  has  in  his  sub- 
consciousness  the  admission  that  there  are  times  when  a  lie 
is  excusable,  and  in  the  pinch  of  occasion  the  weakness  thus 
produced  in  his  veracity  is  likely  to  show  itself.  This  law 
is  a  robbery  and  a  blow  at  the  fundamental  honesty  of  the 
American  people. 

Taxes  upon  all  corporations  should  be  levied  against  the 
corporation  as  such  and  paid  by  the  corporation  treasurer; 
and  no  attempt  should  be  made  to  tax  their  securities  in 
the  hands  of  their  individual  purchasers.  In  fact  the  cor- 
poration treasuries  are  taxed  in  various  ways,  so  that  the  levy 
on  their  securities  is  merely  an  abortive  attempt  at  double 
taxation  and  a  deterrent  to  the  honest  investor.  Corpora- 
tions might  be  so  taxed  as  to  socialize  the  excessive  income 
derived  from  monopolistic  power  or  to  discourage  the  use 
of  such  power  in  extorting  excessive  income.  A  tax  on  the 
amount  of  business,  however,  or  what  amounts  to  the  same 
thing,  a  tax  on  each  unit  of  business,  often  would  tend  to  raise 
prices  and  to  encourage  the  supply  of  a  reduced  output  at 
an  advanced  figure,  so  that  the  tax  should  be  on  net  income, 
if  that  is  ascertainable,  not  on  each  passenger  or  ton-mile 
or  unit  of  product;  and  in  some  respects  better  still  is  a 
fixed  charge  upon  the  property  of  the  company,  or  on  its  out- 
standing securities,  to  be  met  before  any  differential  can  be 
accumulated. 


148  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

A  tax  on  great  inheritances  would  afford  a  particularly 
favorable  method  of  socializing  a  portion  of  massed  wealth. 
Wealth  shows  itself  when  it  comes  to  probate  in  the  transfer 
from  testator  to  legatee.  Its  new  possessor  has  a  slender 
ethical  claim  upon  it ;  his  claim  is  a  legal  one  and  can  properly 
be  limited  by  law.  Unless  close  of  kin  to  the  testator  he  is 
not  yet  accustomed  to  a  standard  of  living  dependent  on 
the  new  wealth,  and  a  proper  tax  upon  great  inheritances 
would  cause  little  or  no  hardship  except  to  the  mind  of  the 
greedy.  A  tax  on  inheritances  has  all  the  qualities  of  a 
good  tax;  it  is  easy  and  inexpensive  to  collect,  causes  little 
hardship,  is  just,  and  is  highly  productive  of  revenue.  Such 
a  tax  should  be  progressive;  that  is,  the  rate  of  taxation 
should  be  higher  the  greater  the  inheritance.  Small  estates 
might  bear  no  tax.  If  industrial  organization  makes  it  easy 
for  the  managers  of  business  to  accumulate  an  unreasonable 
share  of  the  proceeds  there  is  no  moral  reason  why  this  per- 
nicious congestion  of  wealth  should  be  allowed  to  remain 
undisturbed  for  succeeding  generations.  'An  attempt  would 
be  made  to  evade  an  inheritance  tax  by  deeding  away  property 
and  accepting  in  return  a  contract  for  a  life  annuity.  Such 
deeds  might  probably  be  made  illegal. 

The  Unearned  Increment. — The  followers  of  Henry  George 
argue  that  no  man  made  the  land  and  no  man  has  any  but 
a  merely  legal  claim  to  it,  which  society  is  at  liberty  to  alter 
and  regulate  for  the  general  good.  They  add  that  the  present 
rental  value  of  land,  especially  of  the  enormously  valuable 
city  land,  has  mostly  been  produced  neither  by  the  owner 
nor  even  by  nature,  but  by  society,  and  that  society  alone 
is  entitled  to  collect  such  rental ;  that  this  rental  value  is 
largely  due  to  the  expenditure  of  money  raised  by  taxation, 
in  building  and  maintaining  streets,  waterworks,  parks, 
schools,  fire  and  police  systems;  that  in  other  words  the 
people  tax  themselves  to  create  rental  values  which  they 
donate  to  the  holders  of  the  land ;  that  whatever  society  does 
by  taxation,  by  building  churches,  developing  industries,  and 
by  its  other  activities,  to  make  it  desirable  to  live  arid  do 
business  in  a  given  locality  creates  a  privilege  for  the  enjoy- 


SOCIAL  REGULATION  OF  DISTRIBUTION         149 

ment  of  which  private  individuals  collect  the  annual  rental. 
They  tell  us  that  by  actual  computation  for  specific  localities, 
some  of  which  may  be  more  or  less  typical,  a  tax  on  rental 
values  of  land  alone  would  yield  as  much  as  is  now  raised 
for  state  and  local  purposes,  and  that  while  the  taxes  of  some 
individuals  would  be  raised,  the  taxes  of  an  equal  number 
of  persons  would  be  lowered.  They  point  out  that  under  their 
system  men  could  no  longer  afford  to  hold  the  most  con- 
venient land  idle  for  speculative  purposes  and  that  building 
would  increase  and  rents  fall,  both  because  the  best  lots 
could  not  be  profitably  kept  unoccupied  and  because  buildings 
would  be  untaxed. 

Objectors  to  the  single  tax  reply  that  to  make  the  tax 
on  land  equal  to  its  rental  value  is  to  confiscate  all  that  its 
present  owner  paid  for  it.  The  single-taxers  answer  that 
ownership  of  vast  quantities  of  American  soil  was  acquired 
by  free  gift  of  the  government  or  by  inheritance  at  no  cost 
to  the  possessor,  or  even,  especially  in  the  case  of  railroads, 
by  the  bribery  of  legislators,  and  that  the  legislatures  having 
given  away  the  patrimony  of  the  people,  the  people  have 
a  right  to  claim  its  rental  value.  But  it  remains  true  that 
multitudes  of  owners  have  paid  for  their  land  in  honest,  hard- 
earned  cash,  and  it  is  hard  to  see  how  the  rental  value  of 
such  land  can  be  confiscated  with  any  sort  of  decency. 

However,  the  principle  of  heavily  taxing  unearned  incre- 
ments in  land  value  is  now  established  in  several  states  and 
nations.  The  unearned,  socially  created  increments  in  land 
value  will  in  the  future  be  enormous  in  this  country ;  expendi- 
ture of  the  people's  money  in  public  works,  growth  of  in- 
dustry, and  the  increasing  needs  of  a  multiplying  population 
will  create  incalculable  rental  values;  and  society  ought  to 
adopt  and  announce  the  policy  of  keeping  for  its  own  uses 
the  values  that  will  be  so  created  in  the  future,  instead  of 
allowing  them  to  accumulate  as  a  terrific  taxing  power  in 
the  hands  of  those  who  will  chance  to  inherit  our  lands.  The 
ancient  Jewish  law  which  provided  that  at  the  end  of  every 
fifty  years  all  land  should  revert  to  the  heirs  of  its  original 
owners,  suggests  the  possibility  of  a  law  providing  that  fifty 


ISO  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

years  after  the  passage  of  the  law  all  land  shall  permanently 
revert  to  the  state,  except  that  land  which  at  the  expiration  of 
that  period  is  in  the  possession  of  the  person  who  owned  it  at 
the  time  the  law  was  passed,  shall  not  revert  to  the  state  until 
the  death  of  the  owner.  The  person  in  possession  of  a  parcel 
of  land  at  the  expiration  of  fifty  years  should  have  the  right 
to  retain  its  use  by  payment  of  rental  and  the  right  to  sell  that 
privilege  to  another.  The  selling  value  of  land  would  diminish 
throughout  the  fifty  years  till  at  the  end  it  was  no  greater  than 
the  right  of  tenancy  which  remained.  Every  landholder  would 
enjoy  till  his  death  the  full  title  to  his  property  unless  he  chose 
to  sell  it.  Landed  property  and  inherited  property  are  held 
more  by  a  merely  legal,  or  conventional,  title  than  property 
which  the  owner  may  have  produced,  or  for  which  he  has  given 
an  equivalent.  Neither  one  of  these  peculiarities  by  itself  might 
justify  confiscation,  but  both  together  might  justify  the  social 
confiscation  of  property  that  is  at  the  same  time,  in  land,  and 
inherited,  especially  if  long  notice  were  given  for  the  adjust- 
ment of  plans  and  expectations.1  , 

1  Nothing  short  of  an  amendment  to  the  constitution  could  inau- 
gurate such  a  policy.  If  public  opinion  were  educated  up  to  the  point 
of  adopting  such  an  amendment  there  is  little  doubt  that  the  policy 
would  be  persisted  in. 


CHAPTER  X 

FURTHER  PROPOSALS  FOR  THE  SOCIAL  REGULATION  OF 
THE  DISTRIBUTION  OF  WEALTH 

5.  Minimum  Wage  Boards. — It  would  be  unwise  to  pass  a 
law  that  no  man  shall  be  employed  at  less  than  a  specified 
wage,  for  unless  the  wage  specified  were  so  low  as  to  render 
the  law  of  little  or  no  use,  it  would  exclude  from  all  em- 
ployment the  lowest  class  of  laborers  who  are  far  better  off 
to  earn  what  they  now  can,  than  to  be  condemned  to  idle 
pauperism,  and  whom  no  one  could  afford  to  employ  at  the 
wages  proper  for  competent,  normal  men.  Minimum  wages 
can  properly  be  fixed  only  for  particular  industries,  and 
then  subject  to  change  with  changing  conditions.  Thus  a 
minimum  wage  for  teachers  of  a  certain  grade  within  a  cer- 
tain area  can  be  fixed  with  perfect  propriety.  So  also  can 
minimum  rates  for  each  of  the  labor  processes  involved  in  a 
given  manufacture.  But  to  do  this  with  justice  and  with- 
out danger  of  crippling  the  industry  and  so  injuring  all  en- 
gaged in  it  as  managers  or  investors  or  laborers,  would 
require  an  authority  possessed  of  first-rate  business  judg- 
ment and  having  access  to  all  the  pertinent  facts  relating 
to  the  industry  affected.  This  would  require  hearings  open 
to  both  sides  and  the  power  to  subpoena  witnesses.  The 
minimum  fixed  should  be  subject  at  proper  intervals  to  peti- 
tion for  reconsideration  from  either  employers  or  laborers. 
This  involves  the  establishment  of  minimum  wage  boards,  an 
experiment  now  being  tried  by  certain  states,  and  which  may 
find  far-reaching  and  beneficent  application.1 

1  Nine  of  the  states  of  this  republic  now  have  minimum  wage  laws 
(1914).  Australia  has  extended  the  application  of  such  laws  from  six 
trades  in  1896  to  141  trades  in  1915.  England  passed  a  Minimum  Wage 
Board  Act  in  1909,  covering  four  industries.  The  industries  most 


152 

Minimum  wage  legislation  may  do  more  harm  than  good 
unless  its  provisions  apply  to  minors  or  unless  it  is  accom- 
panied by  such  child  labor  legislation  as  will  prevent  the 
discharge  of  those  whose  wages  it  would  affect  in  order  to 
replace  them  with  children.  A  fevorite  way  of  circumventing 
minimum  wage  laws,  if  permitted,  will  be  apprenticeship 
laws  that  will  allow  the  employer  to  get  his  cheap  work 
done  by  a  continuous  succession  of  rather  long-term  appren- 
tices who  are  exempted  from  the  decisions  of  the  minimum 
wage  board. 

6.  Collective  Bargaining. — The  instrumentality  which  has 
thus  far  done  most  toward  securing  for  labor  a  share  in  the 
differential  returns  of  industry  is  collective  bargaining.  "It 
is  usually  a  matter  of  small  importance  to  the  employer 
whether  or  not  he  secures  a  particular  laborer,  while  the 
securing  of  a  particular  employment  is  often  a  matter  of  the 
very  greatest  importance  to  the  laborer.  Under  these  con- 
ditions wages  are  apt  to  be  fixed  much  closer  to  the  minimum 
which  i the  laborer  will  take  than  to  the  maximum  which  the 
employer  will  pay."  x  One  laborer  out  of  the  hundreds  em- 
ployed in  a  factory  is  in  no  position  to  bargain  with  the 
employer,  especially  when  other  applicants  for  work  are  wait- 
ing at  the  gates.  But  the  whole  body  of  laborers  in  the 
factory,  if  united,  are  in  a  position  to  bargain  with  the  em- 
ployer on  terms  of  equality  and  justice.  "The  laws  of  supply 
and  demand,  even  where  they  operate  far  more  perfectly 
than  they  do  with  reference  to  labor,  do  not  give  to  sellers 

needing  such  treatment  in  the  United  States  are  retail  stores,  tenement 
industries,  and  cotton  manufacture. 

Whatever  the  people  in  general  sufficiently  want  will  become  con- 
stitutional. All  who  believe  in  seriously  attempting  to  make  govern- 
ment an  agency  of  democracy  in  an  age  of  machine  industry  will  help  to 
liberalize  the  constitution.  Modern  means  of  transportation  and  com- 
munication and  large-scale  industry  make  the  nation  an  industrial  unit. 
All  who  resist  economic  justice  and  wish  to  perpetuate  existing  abuses, 
as  well  as  many  others  among  the  naturally  conservative  will  take 
refuge  behind  the  written  constitution. 

1  R.  T.  Ely :  Outlines  of  Economics.  Revised  Ed.  Macmillan  Co., 
1914,  p.  382, 


SOCIAL  REGULATION  OF  DISTRIBUTION         153 

normal  prices,  but  only  create  a  situation  in  which  the  sellers 
can  successfully  demand  a  normal  price  if  they'  are  suf- 
ficiently awake  to  their  opportunity  to  refuse  to  sell  for 
less." 

Collective  bargaining  has  special  advantages  in  that  it  is 
in  harmony  with  the  spirit  of  our  free  institutions ;  by  it  the 
laborers  help  themselves  without  relying  unnecessarily  upon 
the  intervention  of  government,  and  it  develops  among  them 
economic  intelligence,  devotion,  and  leadership.  It  is  true, 
however,  that  the  labor  unions  have  at  times  been  foolishly 
and  even  wickedly  led,  or  misled,  and  hav«  then  developed  a 
spirit  of  hatred  and  of  tolerance  for  violent  and  illegal  meas- 
ures. Bargaining  implies  a  certain  fairness  and  readiness 
to  abide  by  reasonable  conclusions,  and  each  side  has  too  often 
lacked  this  spirit  and  has  been  inclined  to  rely  upon  its  power 
to  compel  the  other  party  to  yield  to  its  demands,  rather  than 
upon  justice,  which  as  a  rule  requires  mutual  concessions 
from  opposing  interests.  Nevertheless  there  is  no  room  for 
doubt  that  collective  bargaining  has  come  to  stay  probably 
as  long  as  the  wage  system  lasts,  and  the  sooner  all  parties 
accept  it  as  a  normal  and  necessary  basis  for  relations  be- 
tween hired  labor  and  employers  the  better  for  all  concerned. 
In  fact  many  of  the  most  successful  and  intelligent  employ- 
ers in  this  country  and  abroad  have  so  accepted  it,  and  regard 
it  as  for  their  own  interest  to  have  fixed  agreements  for 
specified  periods  with  the  whole  body  of  their  employees.  It 
is  a  shortsighted  error  for  employers  to  oppose  the  organiza- 
tion of  labor.  Especially  employers  are  inviting  the  worst  dis- 
orders and  abuses  when,  in  order  to  make  organization  diffi- 
cult, they  prefer  ignorant  laborers  unable,  because  of  differ- 
ences of  language,  race,  and  religion,  to  understand  each 
other.1  The  best  labor  force  is  intelligent,  well  organized 
and  responsible.2  Collective  bargaining  implies  that  the  labor 

1  This  has  been  illustrated  by  the  recent  social  and  industrial  dis. 
turbances  in  Colorado. 

*  "There  can  be  no  doubt  that  in  the  struggle  among  nations,  which, 
at  least  in  the  immediate  future,  is  likely  to  become  more  intense  than 
formerly,  the  people  that  first  brings  its  social  organization  into  har- 


154  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

I 

union  as  well  as  the  present  corporation  is,  in  some  sense  at 
least,  a  social  person  with  rights  and  responsibilities.  To 
say  that  the  unions  should  have  powers  is  equivalent  to  saying 
that  they  should  also  have  responsibilities,  for  the  two  can- 
not be  divorced.  The  great  difficulty  in  this  connection  has 
been  in  enforcing  responsibility  by  any  legal  means  against 
hundreds  or  thousands  of  nearly  propertyless  individuals 
even  though  organized.  They  ought  to  be  incorporated  and 
to  have  valuable  charter  rights.  The  best  way  to  make  them 
legally  responsible  is  to  give  them  something  valuable  that 
can  be  forfeited  by  misconduct.  As  soon  as  legal  privileges, 
like  those  of  appearing  before  boards  of  conciliation  and  arbi- 
tration and  wage  boards,  are  granted,  and  as  soon  as  good 
standing  before  the  bar  of  public  opinion  is  justly  valued  by 
the  unions,  there  is  some  means  of  enforcing  responsibility 
upon  them  by  denying  legal  privileges  as  a  penalty  for  vio- 
lating legal  obligations  and  by  public  approval  and  disap- 
proval. Moreover,  since  the  unions  now  handle  large  funds 
there  is  some  opportunity  for  legal  control  by  pecuniary  sanc- 
tions. The  difficulty  of  enforcing  obligation  upon  the  unions 
has  been  the  serious  obstacle  to  the  success  of  compulsory 
arbitration.  A  board  of  conciliation  may  have  practically  all 
the  good  results  of  compulsory  arbitration  if  law  requires 
adequate  notice  of  a  proposed  strike  or  lockout,  and  enables 
and  requires  the  board  to  ascertain  and  publish  the  facts 
which  reveal  the  merits  of  the  dispute  before  the  strike  can 
legally  be  called. 

A  single  body  of  officials  might  combine  1;he  duties  of 
board  of  conciliation  and  minimum  wage  board. 

7.     Profit-sharing  and  Cooperation. — These  are  not  com- 
pulsory but  voluntary   measures,  the    former   depending .  on 

mony  with  the  new  conditions  will  have  an  immense  advantage.  The 
country  that  can  first  raise  its  working  population  to  an  intelligent  and 
enthusiastic  solidarity  of  feeling  and  interest,  a  compact  nation  of 
free,  instructed  men,  would  in  the  scientific  (industrial)  warfare  of 
to-day  have  an  exceptionally  strong  position  against  a  government  of 
capitalists  dragging  after  them  an  unwilling,  demoralized,  and  igno- 
rant host  of  proletarians."  Thomas  Kirkup. 


SOCIAL  REGULATION  OF  DISTRIBUTION         155 

the  initiative  of  the  employers,  the  latter  on  that  of  the 
laborers. 

In  profit-sharing,  because  he  regards  it  as  good  business 
to  bind  the  laborer  to  him  by  such  means,  or  because  he  admits 
the  justice  of  the  laborer's  claim  to  a  share  in  the  differential, 
or  for  both  reasons,  the  employer  pays  the  laborers  a  dividend 
in  addition  to  wages.  The  amount  of  the  dividend  in  the 
case  of  each  individual  laborer  is  usually  based  upon  the 
amount  of  regular  wages  paid  him,  that  is,  upon  the  value 
of  the  laborer's  investment  of  work.  Sometimes  it  is  based 
in  part  on  the  length  of  the  laborer's  service.  This  is  ob- 
jected to  because  it  puts  a  penalty  on  striking;  and  the  right 
to  quit  and  seek  a  new  employer  or  better  terms  is  the  car- 
dinal difference  between  the  free  laborer  and  the  slave.  Profit- 
sharing  is  not  general  but  sporadic  and  promises  no  general 
relief  unless  in  response  to  a  far  more  pressing  demand  of 
public  opinion. 

In  cooperative  industry  the  workers  are  themselves  the 
stockholders  in  the  company  and  elect  their  own  managers. 
Cooperative  stores,  cooperative  building  and  loan  companies 
and  other  cooperative  credit  associations,  cooperative  eleva- 
tor companies  and  fruitgrowers  associations,  and  cooperative 
"garden  cities"  have  proved  successful.  But  in  these  (unless 
in  an  exceptional  case),  the  majority  of  the  stockholders  are 
not  employed  by  the  company.  On  the  other  hand,  cooperative 
industry,  in  which  the  cooperators  have  been  their  own 
employees,  has  rarely  proved  successful.  There  is  great 
danger  that  the  cooperators  will  not  be  willing  to  pay  wages 
of  superintendence  enough  greater  than  the  wages  of  ordinary 
labor  to  retain  competent  management,  that  they  will  not 
refrain  from  jealousy  and  cross  purposes  as  a  result  of  ques- 
tions of  preferment,  and  that  they  will  not  submit  to  proper 
discipline  in  the  works. 

One  of  the  main  principles  of  cooperation  is  "one  man, 
one  vote."  In  an  ordinary  corporation  a  man  who  owns  more 
than  half  the  stock  can  outvote  all  the  other  stockholders. 
The  principle  of  "one-man  vote"  is  probably  safer  even  in 
non-cooperative  corporations  than  the  principle  of  "voting  the 


156  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

shares,"  for  normally  the  stockholders  all  are  interested  In 
the  prosperity  of  the  business,  and  it  is  not  so  certain  that 
the  holders  of  a  majority  of  the  stock  will  be  just  to  a 
scattered  multitude  who  may  own  the  minority  of  the  stock. 
The  interests  of  a  business  may  be  sacrificed  by  a  few  wealthy 
stockholders  who  are  interested,  for  example,  not  in  the 
legitimate  productivity  of  the  stock,  but  in  causing  the  value 
of  the  stock  to  fluctuate  so  that  they  may  profit  on  the  stock 
exchange  by  their  foreknowledge  of  its  fluctuations.  The 
objection  to  the  one-man,  one- vote  plan  is  that  a  competitor 
may  cheaply  buy  a  share  in  the  management.  Cooperative 
companies  survive  this  danger. 

8.  Bipartite  Cooperation. — The  articles  of  agreement  un- 
der which  business  is  done  by  a  concern  might  provide  that 
the  company  should  be  composed  of  two  classes  of  mem- 
bers: (a)  those  who  invest  capital;  (b)  those  who  invest 
labor.  Just  as  anyone  may  now  become  a  member  of  a 
company  by  purchasing  stock,  so  anyone  might  become  a 
member  of  Class  B  by  being  accepted  as  a  laborer.  The 
members  of  each  class  would  elect  a  board  of  directors.  The 
directors  of  Class  A  would  have  charge  of  matters  in 
which  there  is  no  conflict  of  interest  between  the  two  classes 
of  members,  including  all  buying,  selling,  general  promo- 
tion of  productivity  and  profit,  including  all  handling  of 
capital.  The  directors  of  Class  B  would  devise  methods  for 
promoting  the  welfare  of  their  class  so  far  as  there  was  no 
conflict  with  the  interests  of  Class  A.  Whenever  it  was  neces- 
sary to  secure  the  consent  of  Class  A  to  any  plan  for  the  benefit 
of  the  laborers,  or  whenever  there  was  a  question  involving  a 
conflict  of  interests  between  Class  A  and  Class  B,  the  matter 
would  be  referred  to  a  council  composed  of  four,  including 
two  representatives  chosen  by  each  board  of  directors.  If 
the  council  failed  to  reach  a  majority  decision  the  question 
would  be  referred  to  a  joint  meeting  of  the  boards  of  direc- 
tors. This  body  would  have  at  its  command  all  the  facts  of 
the  case,  would  fully  represent  all  interests,  and  should  be 
able  to  promote  good  understanding.  In  case  the  joint  meet- 
ing of  the  two  boards  could  not  reach  a  majority  decision 


SOCIAL  REGULATION  OF  DISTRIBUTION        157 

(a  majority  of  nine  to  five  might  be  required  if  the  joint 
directorate  numbered  fourteen),  the  question  should  be  re- 
ferred to  three  arbitrators,  one  representing  each  class  of 
members,  and  the  third  a  disinterested  outsider.  The  third 
arbitrator  should  be  named  at  the  time  of  organization  and 
not  after  some  difference  has  occurred.  All  members  of 
both  classes  should  bind  themselves  to  abide  by  the  decisions 
of  the  council  of  four,  the  joint  directorate,  or  the  arbitra- 
tors, and  not  to  interrupt  the  continuance  of  the  business 
under  existing  conditions  because  of  any  pending  differ- 
ence.1 

The  principle  must  be  accepted  that  those  who  invest 
labor  as  well  as  those  who  invest  capital'  are  entitled  to  a 
share  in  the  management  of  industry,  and  that  it  is  intolerable 
for  the  former  to  be  without  voice  or  representation  in  decid- 
ing questions  in  which  there  is  a  clear  division  of  interest 
between  the  laborers  and  the  managers. 

9.  Prevent  Stock-Watering  and  Limit  Stock  Gambling. — 
Stock-watering  is  the  issuance  of  securities  having  a  par  value 
greater  than  the  actual  property  of  the  company.  Ostensibly 
a  stock  certificate  is  an  evidence  of  ownership  of  property, 
but  evidences  of  ownership  of  five  million  dollars'  worth  of 
property  may  be  issued  and  sold,  where  only  one  million 
dollars'  worth  of  property  exists.  Suppose  a  promoter  sees 
opportunity  to  consolidate  the  four  chief  concerns  engaged  in 
a  given  industry  and  so  establish  a  monopoly.  These  con- 
cerns having  plants  worth,  say,  a  million  dollars  each  ($4,000,- 
ooo  in  all)  agree  to  turn  them  over  to  the  new  company  for 
stock  having  a  par  value  of  three  million  dollars  each  ($12,- 
000,000  in  all).  The  underwriter  who  floats  this  stock,  that 
is,  buys  the  whole  lot  and  sells  it  out  as  he  can,  receives  a 
bonus  of  stock  having  a  par  value'  of,  say,  two  millions,  and 
the  promoter  who  devised  the  plan  and  secured  the  coopera- 
tion of  the  four  original  companies  and  of  the  underwriting 
bank  or  syndicate,  receives  an  equal  bonus.  This  brings  the 

1  The  strike  of  the  Hart  Schaffner  and  Marx  workers  in  1914  was 
terminated  by  an  agreement  resembling  that  here  outlined,  as  was  also 
the  previous  strike  of  the  New  York  Garment  Workers. 


158  *  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

total  issue  of  stock  up  to  $16,000,000  on  a  material  basis  of 
$4,000,000.  The  excessive  issuance  of  stock  by  great  cor- 
porations is  the  rule  and  not  the  exception,  and  a  dispro- 
portion of  four  to  one  as  in  our  illustration  is  sometimes  much 
exceeded.  The  buyers  of  such  stock  are  cheated.  A  vast 
supply  of  stocks  and  bonds  is  provided  to  be  speculatively 
bought  and  sold,  not  seldom  at  "manipulated"  values.  In 
order  to  keep  these  securities  afloat  in  the  market,  the  indus- 
try must  be  made  to  pay  dividends  not  only  upon  the  capital 
actually  invested  in  it,  but  also  upon  the  money  paid  by 
purchasers  of  the  securities  and  pocketed  by  the  promoters  of 
the  organization.  To  make  an  industry  pay  dividends  upon 
several  times  the  capital  really  invested  in  it,  managers  are 
forced  to  depress  wages  and  to  employ  every  monopolistic 
expedient  to  exalt  prices. 

The  change  in  the  method  of  taxing  corporations  above 
proposed  would  itself  tend  to  discourage  stock-watering  if 
the  amount  of  the  stock  issued  were  made  the  basis  of  the 
amount  of  the  tax;  but  a  more  direct  method  of  preventing 
the  watering  of  stock  is  available.  The  actual  property  of 
each  corporation  should  be  subject  to  government  inspection 
and  a  statement  of  the  amount  of  its  property  should  be 
open  to  all  investors  and  such  a  statement  should  accompany 
every  public  announcement  of  stock  offered  for  sale  by  the 
company  together  with  a  statement  of  the  bonded  indebted- 
ness of  the  company.  The  experience  of  Germany,  Austria, 
and  France  taken  together  shows  that  with  proper  legisla- 
tion, stock-watering  is  an  unnecessary  evil. 

An  additional  abuse  has  frequently  arisen  when  two  or 
more  corporations  of  this  sort  have  united  through  the  agency 
of  a  "holding  company."  A  holding  company  could  establish 
its  control  by  tmying  half  of  the  stock  of  the  corporations 
so  united.  An  individual  or  group  of  individuals  could 
control  the  holding  company  and  so  the  concerns  which  it 
had  united,  by  owning  half  of  the  stock  of  the  holding  com- 
pany, equal  in  par  value  to  one-fourth  of  the  stock  of  the 
companies  consolidated  and  controlled.  Indeed  they  need  not 
own  as  much  as  one-fourth,  for  besides  issuing  bonds,  which 


SOCIAL  REGULATION  OF  DISTRIBUTION         159 

carry  no  right  to  vote,  such  corporations  usually  fcave  more 
than  one  class  of  stock,  only  one  of  which  may  have  the 
voting  right,  and  to  control  the  whole  mass  of  "securities" 
it  is  only  necessary  to  own  half  of  the  voting  stock.1 

Dealing  in  futures  on  margin  is  buying  and  selling  com- 
modities or  securities,  through  a  broker,  at  an  unknown  future 
price,  without  paying  the  price  for  what  is  purchased,  but 
only  depositing  a  "margin"  with  the  broker  sufficient  to 
protect  the  latter  from  loss  on  account  of  fluctuations  in  the 
prices  of  that  which  he  is  ordered  to  buy  or  sell,  the  person 
commissioning  the  broker  thereby  standing  to  lose  the  margin 
deposited,  and  standing  to  gain  if  the  future  prices  prove 
to  be  higher  when  selling  orders  go  into  effect  than  when 
buying  orders  go  into  effect.  This  is  very  largely  a  type 
of  gambling  and  is  responsible,  like  other  gambling,  for  much 
fleecing  of  lambs;  and  like  other  gambling  it  is  likely  to  be 
played  as  a  "sure  thing  game"  by  the  insiders.  Much  wealth 
amassed  and  shifted  from  hand  to  hand  by  this  agency  is 
wrongfully  taken  from  its  possessors.  It  is  difficult  to  see 
why  anyone  should  be  allowed  to  buy  stocks  "on  credit." 
This  can  hardly  be  regarded  as  investment.  It  is  an  ab- 
surdity to  claim  that  we  need  in  this  way  to  swell  the  volume 
of  speculation  "in  order  to  determine  the  true  value  of 
securities."  And  it  seems  probable  that  dealing  in  futures  on 

1  Congressional  Record,  June  20,  1914,  p.  10762.  Senator  Owen 
said :  "Three  groups  of  men  having  their  headquarters  in  New  York 
have  been  shown,  through  interlocking  directorates  and  interlocking 
control,  to  have  the  direction  of  approximately  $22,000,000,000  of  prop- 
erty, and  practically  to  have  the  control  over  nearly  every  railroad  in 
the  country,  and  every  one  of  the  great  industrials.  Those  men  can 
forbid  the  railroads  to  buy  rails,  to  buy  steel  cars,  to  buy  railroad 
frogs  and  switches,  to  buy  lumber  and  to  buy  cross  ties;  those  men 
can  put  out  of  employment  thousands  and  tens  of  thousands  of  men; 
those  men  can  constrict  credits  in  the  districts  of  representatives  who 
are  to  be  elected  in  the  fall,  and  in  the  states  of  senators  who  are  to 
be  elected  in  the  fall;  they  can  by  their  power  make  hard  times  in 
districts  where  they  want  to  have  a  change,  and  where  they  want 
to  defeat  those  in  sympathy  with  a  correction  of  those  condi- 
tions, whether  these  candidates  be  Democrats  or  Progressive  Repub- 
licans." 


160  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

margin  will  in  time  be  regarded  as  an  abuse,1  no  longer  to 
be  tolerated  by  public  opinion  or  by  law. 

10.  A  Commission  for  Corporations. — The  great  concerns 
may  be  expected  to  employ  the  monopolistic  power,  which 
they  naturally  tend  to  acquire,  in  raising  prices  to  the  point 
at  which  the  differential  remaining  in  their  possession  will  be 
as  great  as  possible.  Their  effort  to  do  this  will  not  be 
decreased  by  encroaching  upon  the  differential  in  the  ways 
above  outlined,  which  increase  the  cost  of  production  in  order 
to  thicken  the  slice  of  labor.  On  the  contrary  their  motive 
for  raising  prices  will  be  increased  by  these  measures.  It  is 
possible  that  the  prices  now  paid  by  bargain-hunting  con- 
sumers for  certain,  products  is  not  sufficient  to  allow  the  pay- 
ment of  proper  wages  to  laborers.  If  so,  adoption  of  these 
reforms  will  imply  a  rise  of  prices.  Great  manufacturing 
concerns  have  in  general  raised  prices  to  the  point  at  which 
they  are  checked  by  natural  causes.  The  natural  checks  on 
monopolistic  prices  are  the  fear  of  calling  into  competition  in 
any  specially  profitable  industry  new  and  powerful  combina- 
tions of  capital,  and — more  effectual  still — the  fact  that  with 
excessive  rise  of  price  the  demand  for  any  given  commodity 
falls  off,  so  that  there  is  a  point  at  which  further  rise  of  prices 
would  diminish  income  instead  of  increasing  it.  It  is  not 
true  that  a  monopoly  can  get  for  its  output  any  price  it 
chooses  to  ask.  It  is  one  thing  to  ask  a  price  and  quite 
another  to  get  it.  A  monopoly  aims  to  ask  the  highest  price 
that  people  will  pay  for  a  sufficient  quantity  of  its  output 
to  make  the  net  returns  greater  than  they  would  be  if  a 
larger  quantity  were  sold  at  a  lower  price.  Raising  prices 
and  limiting  output  are  correlative.  But  the  consumer  is  not 
contented  with  the  limitation  upon  prices  that  is  set  by  the 
causes  just  stated.  If  by  producing  and  selling  a  given 
quantity  of  goods  at  a  given  price  the  monopoly  secures  the 
same  net  income  that  would  result  from  producing  double 
the  quantity  of  goods  and  selling  them  at  a  price  so  reduced 
that  the  public  would  buy  the  doubled  output,  it  might  be 
a 'matter  of  indifference  to  the  monopoly  whether  the  larger 

*This  refers  to  securities,  not  to  commodities. 


SOCIAL  REGULATION  OF  DISTRIBUTION         161 

or  the  smaller  quantity  were  produced.  But  it  could  not  be  a 
matter  of  indifference  to  the  public,  for  not  to  mention  the  in- 
creased opportunity  afforded  to  labor  in  case  of  the  larger 
production,  the  placing  of  a  larger  quantity  of  goods  within 
the  reach  of  the  public  purchasing  power,  the  greater  abun- 
dance of  desirable  commodities,  and  lowered  price,  are  exactly 
the  results  most  to  be  desired  from  the  point  of  view  of  the 
consumers.  The  problem  is :  how  are  we  to  prevent  monopo- 
lies and  near-monopolies  from  limiting  their  output  to  the 
quantities  saleable  at  high  prices  which  yield  them  the  largest 
possible  net  returns?  If  they  could  not  arbitrarily  raise  the 
price  then  the  chief  way  for  them  to  increase  their  income 
would  be  to  increase  the  quantity  of  the  output  of  a  given 
kind  and  quality  up  to  the  point  where  the  public  demand 
was  satisfied;  that  is,  the  point  at  which  the  public  ceased 
to  buy  at  a  price  covering  the  cost  of  production,  including, 
of  course,  the  wages  of  superintendence. 

Now  if  in  any  important  industry  monopoly  has  the 
power  arbitrarily  to  raise  the  prices  and  to  limit  output, 
it  is  desirable  that  it,  be  confronted  by  a  power  that  can 
arbitrarily  limit  the  rise  of.  prices.  There  is  no  power  ade- 
quate to  accomplish  this  but  the  power  of  government.  But 
that  power  must  be  exercised  with  great  circumspection. 
Changing  the  price  on  each  article  by  a  small  percentage 
may  suffice  to  wipe  out  a  great  profit  and  substitute  a  deficit. 
To  cripple  industry  by  limiting  the  price  of  its  product  would 
be  like  the  folly  of  the  woman  who  killed  the  'goose  that 
laid  the  golden  eggs.  Arbitrary  power  to  limit  prices  may 
be  necessary  to  confront  the  arbitrary  power  to  raise  them, 
but  if  so  it  must  be  exercised  by  carefully  chosen  men  of 
character,  training,  and  intelligence,  who  have  access  to  the 
facts  relating  to  each  industry  over  which  they  have  power, 
and  their  decisions  should  be  subject  to. appeal  for  modifica- 
tion at  reasonable  intervals.  To  attempt  to  regulate  prices 
by  general  legislation  rather  than  by  specific  action  case  by 
case,  would  be  impracticable.  This  calls  for  the  institution 
of  a  special  court  or  commission  for  this  purpose.  To  secure 
\\\§  necessary  promptness  and  flexibility  and  authority,  th$ 


162  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

commission  must  be  able  to  make  rules  within  the  limits  of  its 
legally  defined  authority  and  to  apply  those  rules  to  specific 
cases  without  the  intervention  of  any  other  court.  Legisla- 
tion of  this  sort,  if  undertaken,  should  proceed  tentatively 
at  first  to  a  few  fundamental  industries.  We  have  already 
learned  some  lessons  of  experience  by  price  regulation  through 
a  commission  in  an  exceedingly  difficult  field,  that  of  inter- 
state transportation.  The  question  of  constitutionality  need 
not  be  raised. 

The  existence  of  such  a  commission  having  power  to 
ascertain  the  necessary  facts  and  in  the  light  of  those  facts 
to  regulate  prices,  might  very  possibly  render  it  unnecessary 
to  exercise  power  over  prices,  save  in  rare  instances  and 
as  a  last  resort.  Such  an  agency  with  power  to  make  public 
facts  concerning  the  management  of  corporations  in  respect 
to  certain  topics  including  the  issuance  of  stock,  payment  of 
wages,  the  cost  of  production,  and  the  fixing  of  prices,  would 
bring  to  bear  the  force  of  public  opinion  in  such  a  way  as 
to  accomplish  important  results  without  resort  to  any  legal 
compulsion  beyond  that  necessary  to  ascertain  these  facts. 
The  topics  with  reference  to  which  the  commission  could 
publish  information  should  be  limited  by  law  so  as  to  guard 
legitimate  trade  secrets.  But  no  corporation,  creature  as 
it  is  of  the  public  will,  has  any  right  to  refuse  to  the  public 
information  that  is  necessary  for  guidance  of  the  public  or 
its  agents  in  protecting  the  general  interests.  Otherwise  the 
corporation  may  become  an  afrit,  a  Frankenstein,  able  to 
defy  and  rule  and  rob  its  maker. 

Before  going  so  far  as  to  empower  a  commission  to 
regulate  prices  by  decree  it  is  well  to  try  the  effect  of  pub- 
licity alone.  The  Federal  Trade  Commission,  which  has  been 
established  by  Congress  since  the  foregoing  paragraph  was 
written,  has  power  to  secure  all  necessary  information  con- 
cerning great  corporations  and,  at  its  discretion,  to  publish 
such  information.  On  discovery  of  unlawful  practices,  it 
is  authorized  to  recommend  to  the  courts  the  steps  by  which 
to  terminate  such  practices,  by  the  application  of  existing 
laws,  and  to  report  to  Congress  any  facts  which  may  call  f<?r 


SOCIAL  REGULATION  OF  DISTRIBUTION        163 

additional  legislation.  The  commission  may  serve  as  a  master 
in  equity  in  case  of  suits  brought  under  anti-trust  acts.  It  is 
to  report  the  manner  in  which  decrees  of  courts  against  cor- 
porations are  observed.  Orders  of  the  commission  for  ter- 
mination of  "unfair  methods  of  competition"  are  enforced 
by  the  circuit  court  of  appeals,  before  which  the  findings  of 
the  commission  are  conclusive  as  to  facts. 

The  most  mischievous  of  the  unfair  methods  by  which  a 
monopoly  can  stifle  incipient  competition  is  to  sell  at  a  loss 
in  the  field  of  its  competitors  and  recoup  itself  out  of  gains 
secured  by  higher  prices  in  other  districts,  or  to  sell  below 
cost  the  one  grade  or  style  made  by  the  competitor.  It  is 
probable  that  in  most  cases  competition  or  the  dread  of  com- 
petition will  force  great  corporations  to  keep  prices  down  to 
an  approximately  normal  level  if  they  are  prevented  from 
stifling  competition  by  unfair  methods.  It  is  at  length  recog- 
nized that  penal  laws  against  corporations  should  carry  penal- 
ties enforceable  against  their  officers  as  individuals.  Fines 
amount  to  little  in  such  cases;  imprisonment  amounts  to  a 
great  deal. 

Among  other  laws  which  have  been  recommended  is  the 
prohibition  of  holding  corporations  arid  even  of  the  leasing 
,of  corporate  property  by  corporations.  We  may  advocate 
the  prohibition  of  all  unfair  actions  designed  to  injure  com- 
petitors without  advocating  any  war  against  fair  combination 
designed  to  diminish  competition  by  bigger  and  better  organi- 
zations. It  is  possible  to  go  too  far  in  treating  competition 
as  a  good  in  itself  and  in  treating  comprehensive  and  effi- 
cient organization  as  an  evil.  Comprehensive  organization 
may  go  to  any  length,  provided  the  power  of  individuals  to 
control  the  organization  is  at  the  same  time  limited.  To  limit 
the  power  of  individuals  it  has  been  proposed  that  we  forbid 
interlocking  directorates,  and  adopt  some  application  of  the 
principle  which  prevails  in  "cooperative"  corporations  by 
which  the  voting  power  of  an  individual  does  not  increase 
in  proportion  to  the  size  of  his  holdings.  The  trade  com- 
mission may  promote  the  confidence  and  prosperity  of  well 
disposed  managers  by  answering  questions  as  to  whether 


164  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

proposed  action  would  be  treated  as  illegal  or  in  violation  of 
public  policy. 

11.  Government  Ownership. — This  differs  from  "coopera- 
tion," already  discussed,  mainly  in  that  in  the  former  the  co- 
operating owners  are  limited  to  a  particular  body  of  persons 
incorporated   under  the   laws    of   the    state  and   having  no 
political  or  governmental  authority,  while  under  the  present 
head  we  consider  the  legal  voters  of  an  entire  governmental 
unit,  a  city  or  a  state,  as  the  cooperative  partners.    A  highly 
important  practical  result  proceeding  from  this  distinction  be- 
tween the  two,  is  that  under  government  ownership  funds 
derived   from  taxation  may  be   used  to  make  up  a  deficit 
incurred  by  an  industry.     This  has  its  advantages,  but  also 
its  perils;  for  it  makes  it  possible  for  government  industry 
to  drift  into  lax  and  inefficient  ways   relying  on  the  taxing 
power  to  sustain  it,  while  "cooperative"  industry,  if  ineffi- 
cient, must  fail  and  involve  the  cooperators  in  loss  which 
cannot  be  hidden. 

A  still  graver  danger  to  success  in  the  governmental  owner- 
ship of  industries  is  the  likelihood  that  appointments  will 
be  made  for  political  or  personal  reasons,  and  not  with 
strict  regard  for  qualification  to  do  the  work  of  the  position 
held.1 

12.  Socialism. — In  algebra  we  were  taught  to  let  x  equal 
any  unknown  thing  that  it  was  convenient  so  to  designate. 
Similarly  the  word  socialism  is  a  symbol  which  some  people 
use  to  designate  any  proposal  of  reform  that  is  too  radical 
and  destructive  to  deserve  approval.     Others  use  it  to  desigT 
nate  any  proposal  that  is  sufficiently  courageous  and  con- 
structive to  deserve  support.     Others  still  use  it  to  designate 
a  definitely  elaborated  program  of  reform. 

The  central  element  in  the  socialism  of  avowed  socialists 
is  advocacy  of  the  organization  of  industry  in  the  interest, 
and  under  the  control  of  all  the  active  participants  in  in- 
dustry. Some  content  themselves  with  advocating  this  prin- 
ciple broadly,  proposing  to  utilize  to  this  end  whatever  form 

1  It  is  true  that  advancement  in  privately  managed  business  is  very 
largely. influenced  by  family  and  social  relationships. 


SOCIAL  REGULATION  OF  DISTRIBUTION        165 

of  organization  proves  best  adapted  to  each  given  case.  Thus 
their  plan  includes  such  voluntary  cooperation  as  that  now 
practiced  by  the  great  cooperative  stores  of  England  and 
by  cooperative  insurance,  building  and  loan,  fruitgrowers' 
and  farmers'  grain  elevator  associations.  Others  (the  state 
socialists)  concentrate  their  argument  upon  the  extension  of 
government  ownership.  These  cite  the  public  schools,  the 
postal  system,  and  municipal  waterworks  and  gas  and  electric 
lighting  plants  as  instances  of  the  type  of  socialistic  action 
in  which  they  believe.  Some  industries  they  would  assign  to 
the  municipality,  others  to  the  state,  and  others  to  the  national 
administration.  International  carrying  trade  the  majority  of 
such  socialists  might  assign  to  an  international  organization. 
They  ardently  believe  that  socialism  would  provide  condi- 
tions under  which  the  better  elements  in  human  nature 
would  come  naturally  into  predominance  in  the  relations  be- 
tween individuals  and  under  which  war  between  nations 
would  be  practically  done  away. 

State  socialism  is  the  opposite  of  anarchism;  it  is  reform 
by  the  extension  of  government  activity,  while  anarchism  is 
reform  by  the  diminution  of  government  activity.  Anarchism 
is  the  product  of  tyranny  which  breeds  revulsion  against  all 
government ;  its  natural  home  is  a  land  like  Russia.  Socialism 
is  the  product  of  democracy  which  invites  faith  in  the  om- 
nipotent beneficence  of  government.  Anarchism  is  individual- 
ism relieved  from  all  constraint;  its  motto  is  "more  freedom 
is  the  cure  for  freedom's  ills,"  and  "that  government  is  best 
which  governs  least";  its  peril  is  chaos.  Socialism  is  the 
curbing  of  individualism  in  the  interest  of  the  many  and  its 
peril  is  stagnation.  Socialism  and  anarchism  are  somewhat 
difficult  to  define,  except  in  their  extreme  forms,  or  else  as 
tendencies.  Using  the  terms  as  names  for  tendencies,  Profes- 
sor W.  G.  Sumner  has  said  that  every  man  is  either  an  an- 
archist or  a  socialist,  that  is,  he  looks  for  progress  chiefly 
from  the  exploits  of  untrammeled  individualism,  or  from  the 
increase  of  cooperation  through  organization. 

Socialists  differ  from  communists  in  their  emphasis  of 
the  difference  between  "capital"  and  "consumption  goods." 


166  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

The  most  characteristic  item  in  the  program  of  socialism 
is  collective  ownership  and  management  of  all  business  re- 
quiring the  use  of  large  aggregations  of  capital,  such  as  rail- 
roads, factories,  and  mines.  They  say  that  possession  of 
such  masses  of  capital  by  individuals  creates  an  artificial  dis- 
tinction between  men,  makes  competition  on  equal  terms  im- 
possible, and  renders  the  mass  of  workers  slaves  who  depend 
on  the  consent  of  their  masters  for  the  opportunity  to  toil. 
The  socialists,  however,  are  not  communists,  for  they  would 
allow  private  property  in  consumption  goods,  such  as  homes 
and  their  furnishings,  and  most  of  them  approve  private  posses- 
sion of  such  production  goods  as  the  mechanic's  kit  of  tools. 
Their  primary  aim  is  not  equalization  of  wealth  but  equaliza- 
tion of  opportunity ;  and  they  argue  that  concentration  of  the 
chief  means  of  production  in  private  hands  destroys  equality 
of  opportunity  and  reduces  society  to  a  kind  of  caste  sys- 
tem. 

Socialists  would  make  agricultural  land  public  property, 
but  the  wisest  of  them  would  assign  it  to  individual  culti- 
vators, and  not  attempt  collective  farm  management. 

One  of  the  arguments  of  the  socialists  relates  to  the  great 
savings  which  might  be  effected  by  comprehensive  organi- 
zation of  industry,  as  against  the  wastes  of  competition  in 
the  manufacture  of  goods,  and  in  the  delivery  of  goods 
by  a  system  which  involves  the  passage  of  several  milk- 
wagons  down  the  same  streets  and  the  conveyance  of  parcels 
of  every  sort  from  many  sellers  to  individual  purchasers  in- 
stead of  allowing  the  districting  of  cities  and  states  with 
one  distributing  point  for  each  district,  and  of  competitive 
salesmanship  which  requires  a  large  part  of  the  energy  of  the 
nation  to  be  devoted  merely  to  inducing  purchasers  to  buy  of 
one  seller  rather  than  another,  and  which  sometimes  causes 
the  charges  of  middlemen  to  double  the  price  of  a  com- 
modity. 

Socialists  commonly  divide  themselves  into  two  denomi- 
nations :  the  "orthodox"  or  Marxian  socialists,  who  advo- 
cate immediate  government  ownership  and  management  of 
all  extensive  bodies  of  the  means  of  production;  and  the 


SOCIAL  REGULATION  OF  DISTRIBUTION         167 

"revisionists,"  who  avow  the  tendency  above  described  as 
socialistic  and  call  themselves  socialists,  and  yet  in  some  in- 
stances do  not  propose  any  more  radical  reforms  or  any 
more  impatient  methods  than  those  which  are  believed  in 
by  many  persons  who  would  be  shocked  at  being  called 
socialists. 

Socialism  has  appealed  both  to  some  of  the  solidest  thinkers, 
like  J.  S.  Mill,  and  also  to  many  of  the  type  who  are  eager  for 
something  new  and  strange.  The  latter  have  mixed  with 
their  socialism  numerous  vagaries  concerning  the  modifica- 
tion of  other  than  economic  institutions,  but  these  have  noth- 
ing to  do  with  the  essence  of  socialism.  The  most  intelli- 
gent advocates  of  socialism  do  not  propose  any  complete  and 
detailed  plan  for  immediate  adoption,  but  content  themselves 
with  advocating  the  principle  of  ownership  and  management 
of  each  great  body  of  capital,  by  and  for  "the  people,"  or  "the 
participants  in  the  industry,"  and  with  promoting  such  steps 
in  that  direction  as  seem  to  be  already  justified.  They  be- 
lieve that  by  a  tentative  and  experimental  approach  toward 
the  fulfillment  of  their  aim  the  method  of  that  fulfillment 
will  gradually  be  discovered. 

Although  a  complete  socialistic  system  is  not  likely  soon 
to  be  tried  in  this  country,  yet  we  may  continue  to  extend 
government  activity,  now  here,  now  there,  now  wisely  and 
again  unwisely,  until  we  tentatively  reach  the  limits  beyond 
which  we  cannot  go  without  making  the  machinery  of  life  too 
cumbersome  and  oppressive,  and  the  opportunities  and  mo- 
tives for  individual  endeavor  too  limited.  Aside  from  the 
two  dangers  already  mentioned  in  discussing  the  extension 
of  government  ownership  the  evil  most  dreaded  as  a  result 
of  overorganization  is  that  governmental  industry  will  settle 
down  into  a  jogging  routine,  and  that  men  engaged  in  such 
industry  will  find  no  adequate  motives  to  invention,  improve- 
ment, and  notable  achievement. 

Reform  by  Violence. — Sabotage  (or  the  wrecking  of  ma- 
chinery or  damaging  of  work),  murder  by  bomb-throwing  and 
other  "direct"  methods,  are  far  more  associated  with  anar- 
chism than  with  socialism  and  are  no  essential  part  of  either. 


168  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

Syndicalism  of  the  I.  W.  W.  (Industrial  Workers  of  the 
World)  stands  for  the  widest  employment  of  the  sympathetic 
strike  and  a  creed  of  violence.  Some  may  honestly  believe 
that  no  war  was  ever  better  justified  than  that  for  labor's 
rights,  and  no  soldiers  truer  heroes  than  those  who  brave  the 
perils  involved  in  such  acts.  Perhaps  this  would  be  true  if 
such  methods  would  secure  social  justice  and  no  other  methods 
would.  But  since  neither  of  those  conditions  is  found,  such 
acts  are  both  follies  and  crimes.  Vast  reforms  do  not  come 
in  a  day,  but  never  in  the  world  were  they  coming  so  fast  as 
now  and  never  before  did  labor  have  in  its  hands  such  effective 
agencies  for  securing  its  rights,  as  the  ballot,  freedom  of  dis- 
cussion in  press  and  speech,  and  freedom  of  organization.  It 
is  treachery  to  labor's  cause  to  imperil  these  rights;  and  so- 
ciety as  a  whole,  rich  and  poor,  which  has  granted  these  rights, 
is  justified  in  stamping  out  the  abuse  of  them  and  the  violence 
that  is  the  subversion  of  all  social  order. 

Necessity  for  Development  in  Industrial  legislation. — 
Nothing  is  more  practically  certain  than  that  modern  indus- 
trial conditions  call  for  the  development  of  a  new  body  of 
laws,  and  that  statutes  and  rules  of  common  law  which  come 
down  to  us  from  before  the  industrial  revolution,  must  be 
scrutinized  and  new  ones  must  be  developed.  Certain  prin- 
ciples of  justice  are  eternal,  but  their  application  is  frus- 
trated if,  when  conditions  change,  legal  methods  are  not 
adapted  to  the  new  requirements.  The  principles  of  the 
wheel,  pulley,  screw,  and  lever  are  the  same  as  in  the  six- 
teenth century,  but  machinery  has  evolved. '  We  have  a 
highly  developed  system  of  laws  to  regulate  the  conduct  of 
natural  persons.  There  must  be  laws  to  regulate  the  conduct 
of  artificial,  legally  created  persons,  that  is,  corporations,  for 
the  latter  now  play  an  increasing  role  in  society,  and  even 
threaten  to  assume  the  sovereignty  and  rule  us  in  their  own 
interest,  if  indeed  they  do  not  already  do  so,  in  part  through 
control  of  the  agencies  of  government,  in  part  through  con- 
trol of  the  organs  of  public  opinion,  in  part  through  their 
mastery  over  the  earners  of  wages,  in  part  through  the  power 
to  fix  prices  and  lay  us  all  under  tribute.  The  new  conditions 


169 

call  for  new  laws  not  chiefly  upon  the  subject  of  prices,  but 
chiefly  upon  the  relations  between  the  employers  and  labor- 
ers, as  above  pointed  out.  Next  to  the  relations  between  hus- 
band and  wife  and  parents  and  children,  those  between  em- 
ployers and  employed  are  probably  the  most  fundamental  to 
social  welfare.  The  marriage  relation  is  automatically  pro- 
tected, for  it  involves  companionship,  the  parent  of  sympathy, 
and  rupture  of  good  personal  relations  forfeits  the  ends  for 
which  marriage  exists.  Nevertheless,  marriage  requires 
the  protection  of  law.  How  much  more  the  relation  be- 
tween employer  and  laborer  which  has  no  such  natural 
defenses ! 

Already  considerable  progress  has  been  made  toward  the 
development  of  a  system  of  law  adapted  to  modern  exigen- 
cies. But  law  is  necessarily  conservative  and  slow  moving, 
and  of  necessity  the  situation  arrives  before  the  laws  that 
are  adapted  to  it.  The  situation  is  here,  and  without  undue 
hurry  or  radicalism,  but  with  courage  and  constructiveness,  a 
corresponding  system  of  law  must  be  evolved. 

Law  No  Cure-all. — After  all  has  been  said  and  done  in  ref- 
erence to  the  direct  attack  upon  injustice  in  distribution  of 
wealth  it  remains  to  be  added  that  the  problem  of  poverty 
must  be  attacked  in  the  flank  as  well  as  in  the  front.  All 
the  work  of  legislatures,  courts,  and  labor  unions  directed 
against  the  evils  of  poverty  will  not  remove  those  evils  so 
long  as  there  are  thousands  upon  thousands  who  lack  the 
physical  and  moral  ability  to  earn  a  living.  Poverty  as  we 
have  seen  is  largely  responsible  for  the  lack  of  physical 
stamina  and  the  lack  of  steadiness  and  thrift,  but  it  is  also 
true  that  these  defects  are  largely  responsible  for  the  poverty. 
We  cannot  safely  rely  upon  more  just  control  of  distribution 
alone.  We  must  have  fewer  citizens  who  lack  physical  sound- 
ness, moral  steadiness,  competence,  and  intelligence,  before  we 
can  approach  the  abolition  of  poverty.  The  campaigns  for 
better  public  health  and  for  better  education  of  the  mass  of 
the  people  and  for  placing  within  their  reach  more  wholesome 
joys,  which  are  outlined  in  other  connections,  must  also  be 
carried  out  before  we  shall  have  done  what  must  be  done 


i7o  INtRODUCf  ION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

toward  overcoming  the  evils  of  poverty.  Evils  of  all  these 
kinds  reenforce  and  perpetuate  each  other  and  a  blow  at 
any  one  of  them  is  a  blow  at  them  all,  and  progress  to  be 
surely  successful  anywhere,  must  be  an  advance  "all  along 
the  line." 


CHAPTER  XI 
TYPES  OF  POVERTY 

Meanwhile  what  shall  society  do  for  those  of  its  members 
who  under  existing  conditions  are  unable  to  maintain  them- 
selves ? 

The  dependent  may  be  classified  into  four  groups,  e_ach 
of  which  requires  treatment  different  from  that  which  is 
appropriate  to  either  of  the  others:  (i)  the  normally  de- 
pendent; (2)  the  physically  dependent;  (3)  the  morally  de- 
pendent ;  (4)  the  unemployed  but'  employable. 

The  first  class  comprises  children  and  the  aged.  It  is  nor- 
mal for  them  to  be  physically  unable  to  maintain  themselves. 
It  is  the  function  of  the  family  to  care  for  them.  The  burden 
which  they  place  upon  those  in  the  prime  of  life  is  heavy. 
Historically  it  has  been  a  chief  means  of  developing  human 
sympathy  and  the  crowning  virtue  of  helpfulness.  Through 
the  death  of  breadwinners  or  otherwise,  many  families  be- 
come unable  to  care  for  their  young  and  their  aged. 

The  Care  of  Dependent  Children. — This  presents  a  problem 
of  great  importance  because  it  requires  not  only  provision  for 
present  comfort  but  also  for  education  and  the  development 
of  personality.  Unwise  charity  may  condemn  the  child  to 
life-long  pauperism  and  make  him  or  her  the  progenitor  of  a 
strain  of  miserables  extending  through  generations,  involving 
society  in  long-continued  and  heavy  expense  and  adding  need- 
lessly to  the  world's  misery. 

No  child  ought  ever  to  grow  up  in  a  poorhouse.  As  a 
rule  with  very  few  exceptions,  if  any,  the  orphanage  is 
not  a  good  place  for  a  child.  We  cannot  expect  children  to 
be  properly  brought  up  by  wholesale;  they  require  individual 
mothering.  Budding  individuality  is  in  the  way  where  many 
children  must  be  cared  for  by  a  few  attendants.  The  per- 


172  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

sonality  of  the  orphanage  inmate  is  exceedingly  likely  to  be 
deficient  in  independence,  initiative,  adaptability,  alertness, 
competence,  and  self-control.  Yet  the  orphanage  is  one  of  the 
most  popular  forms  of  charity.  The  dependent  child  appeals 
to  sympathy  and  churches  like  to  congregate  children  under 
the  influence  of  their  own  sect.  Many  large  endowments 
are  devoted  to  the  support  of  orphanages. 

When  the  orphanage  is  unavoidable  it  should  take  the 
form  of  a  number  of  small  houses,  each  with  its  house  mother 
and  house  father,  rather  than  a  large  institutional  building. 
The  children  should  not  be  dressed  in  uniform  and  should 
be  sent  to  the  public  schools  with  children  from  normal 
homes.  Such  an  orphanage  should  preferably  be  in  the 
country  and  the  children  should  have  opportunities  for  help- 
fulness about  the  homes  and  gardens. 

It  would  be  better  still  if  the  same  funds  could  be  devoted 
to  securing  homes  for  the  children  in  real  families  carefully 
selected,  where  they  should  be  adopted  or  received  as  board- 
ers; and  in  maintaining  a  system  of  visitation  among  the 
homes  where  the  children  were  placed,  so  as  to  see  to  it  that 
they  were  receiving  proper  physical,  mental  and  moral  nur- 
ture. It  is  a  source  of  surprise  to  one  unacquainted  with  the 
facts  to  learn  how  readily  adoption  can  be  secured  for  home- 
less children.  The  parental  instinct  is  strong  in  many  hearts, 
and  with  reasonable  care  directed  to  this  end  the  orphanage 
may  be  transformed  into  a  "placing-out  home,"  where  chil- 
dren are  retained  only  for  a  brief  period  till  suitable  homes 
can  be  found,  and  the  children  can  be  nursed  into  health 
and  fitness  for  such  homes. 

The  orphan  does  not  present  the  most  perplexing  problem 
in  the  case  of  dependent  children,  but  rather  the  child  of 
the  depraved  home.  Sometimes  affection  for  their  children 
seems  the  one  bright  gleam  in  parents  whose  character  is 
flickering  toward  total  darkness.  Whenever  it  is  possible 
to  rehabilitate  the  home  so  that  it  can  care  for  its  own  chil- 
dren, this  should  be  done.  Mere  poverty,  uncomplicated  with 
other  unfitness,  should  not  be  a  cause  for  taking  children 
from  their  parents  or  from  their  sole  surviving  parent,  but 


TYPES  OF  POVERTY  173 

in  such  cases  steps  should  be  taken  for  the  relief  of  the 
poverty. 

Widows  with  children  are  pensioned  by  the  county  under 
a  law  recently  passed  in  the  state  of  Illinois.1  This  legisla- 
tion is  the  subject  of  warm  debate.  Its  advocates  claim  that 
it  is  practicable  before  any  system  of  compulsory  industrial 
insurance  can  be  introduced ;  that  it  is  essential  to  the  rearing 
of  the  children  in  a  manner  compatible  with  the  interests 
of  society,  and  that  it  removes  from  voluntary  charity  an 
insupportable  burden. 

The  opponents  argue  that  it  cannot  be  administered  with- 
out abuses.  It  must  be  conceded  that  the  administration  of 
charitable  funds  by  public  authorities  has  hitherto  generally 
been  a  failure  in  this  country.  But  it  is  not  so  everywhere 
and  need  not  always  be  so  here.  The  beginning  of  proper 
administration  of  non-institutional  charity  by  public  agency 
may  well  be  in  connection  with  mothers'  pensions.  To  make 
these  pension  laws  a  success  the  court  which  allows  them  must 
either  act  in  close  conjunction  with  an  intelligent  charity 
worker  of  the  local  charity  organization,  or  else  there  must 
be  such  a  worker  as  an  attache  of  the  court.  The  former  is 
entirely  practicable  in  smaller  places,  and  the  latter  is  now 
being  attempted  in  Chicago. 

Great  as  is  the  reluctance  with  which  the  representative 
of  society  steps  in  to  break  the -natural  tie  between  parents 
and  children,  and  great  as  is  the  caution  that  should  be  exer- 
cised in  resorting  to  this  form  of  social  surgery,  it  must  be 
recognized  that  parental  rights  can  be  forfeited.  The  laws 
do  recognize  this  fact  and,  with  greater  or  less  wisdom  in 
their  specific  provisions,  authorize  the  removal  of  children 
from  delinquent  parents.  The  absolute  necessity  of  this 
course  for  the  sake  of  the  child  and  for  the  sake  of  society 
in  which  the  child  is  to  have  his  career,  is  in  some  instances 

1  The  Illinois  law  was  passed  in  191 1.  Since  then  similar  laws 
have  been  passed  by  16  states.  The  Illinois  law  applies  not  to  widows 
only  but  to  any  parent  or  parents  who,  being  in  other  respects  fitted 
to  rear  their  children  properly,  are  prevented  from  doing  so  by  pov- 
erty only. 


174  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

perfectly  obvious,  for  example,  when  great  cruelty  is  prac- 
ticed or  when  parents  are  habitually  or  even  professionally 
vicious. 

The  child  of  the  prisoner  has  a  special  claim  upon  the 
state,  since  the  state  has  forcibly  removed  its  natural  sup- 
port. Probably  the  time  will  come  when  instead  of  keeping 
thousands  of  fathers  in  idleness  in  county  jails  we  shall  have 
workhouses  where  these  prisoners  will  be  required  to  earn 
something  toward  the  support  of  their  families.1 

Since  the  child  is  a  normal  dependent  and  since  his  proper 
rearing  is  of  so  great  consequence  to  society,  many  things 
may  properly  be  undertaken  for  him  by  the  public.  Here, 
as  elsewhere,  it  is  often  the  case  that  a  function  is  first  per- 
formed by  voluntary  action  on  the  part  of  persons  who 
realize  its  importance,  to  be  assumed  later  by  the  city  or  the 
state  after  its  usefulness  has  been  demonstrated  and  its 
method  ascertained  by  the  private  agency.  It  is,  however, 
possible  for  government  to  go  too  far  and  infringe  upon  the 
integrity  and  sense  of  responsibility  of  the  family.  School 
lunches,  even  in  districts  where  a  considerable  proportion  of 
the  pupils  are  too  ill  breakfasted  to  study  well  and  too  anemic 
to  develop  properly  in  body  or  in  mind,  are  frequently  ob- 
jected to  on  this  ground.  It  may  be  argued  that  it  is  better 
for  children  to  be  taken  to  a  day  nursery  or  kindergarten 
that  is  maintained  by  the  -city  than  to  one  maintained  by 
private  charity,  because  of  the  pauperizing  effects  of  the  latter, 
the  hurt  to  their  self-respect  and  that  of  their  parents,  and 
the  danger  of  accustoming  them  to  receive  charitable  aid. 
For  this  reason  it  is  usually  wiser  to  charge  some  fee,  though 
it  be  very  small,  for  the  services  of  a  day  nursery  or  a  kinder- 
garten privately  maintained,  or  for  school  lunches  even  when 
provided  by  the  city.  School  lunches  furnished  at  the  cost  of 
the  food  can  be  made  very  nutritious  and  very  inexpensive 
and  perhaps  a  means  of  teaching  household  arts  to  the  chil- 
dren who  assist  in  their  preparation.  Day  nurseries,  wherever 
mothers  in  large  numbers  are  obliged  to  leave  their  little 
children  through  the  working  hours  to  pasture  in  the  tene- 

1  Compare  p.  624. 


TYPES  OF  POVERTY  175 

ments  and  alleys  of  the  slums,  are  demanded  by  every  cpn- 
sideration  of  humanity  and  prudence.  So  also  are  the  kinder- 
gartens and  the  supervised  playgrounds  for  older  children. 

The  care  of  the  children  is  the  greatest  of  all  the  problems 
of  charity,  not  only  because  of  the  great  numbers  of  its 
little  beneficiaries,  but  because  it  is  preventive  of  future  mis- 
eries and  constructive  of  future  good.  In  the  vast  majority 
of  instances  the  child  can  be  formed  for  normal  life,  but  it 
is  from  the  ranks  of  unfortunate  children  that  now  come 
the  majority  of  those  who  darken  the  world  with  misery  and 
burden  it  with  their  care.  Moreover,  each  single  child  saved 
to  a  life  of  usefulness  might  otherwise  not  only  grow  up  to 
a  life  of  misery  and  crime  but,  as  already  noted,  might  also 
become  the  parent  of  increasingly  numerous  generations  of 
paupers  and  criminals. 

Care  of  the  Aged. — Society  should  conspire  to  cheer  old 
age  by  its  manners  and  its  spirit  of  kindness  and  deference. 
The  dependence  of  old  age  is  not  normal  in  precisely  the 
same  sense  as  that  of  childhood,  for  the  aged  have  had  a  past 
in  which  under  favorable  conditions  provisions  for  declining 
years  could  have  been  made.  Under  present  economic  condi- 
tions, however,  for  thousands  of  laborers  the  saving  of  an 
adequate  provision  for  old  age  would  mean  the  denial  of 
really  human  existence  to  themselves  and  their  wives  and 
of  a  decent  rearing  to  their  children.  For  an  aged  laborer 
worn  out  by  a  life  of  honest  toil  in  the  service  of  society  to 
be  forced  to  spend  his  last  years  in  the  poorhouse,  classed 
with  those  pauperized  by  physical  and  moral  abnormality,  in 
companionship  with  the  abjectly  incompetent  and  the  de- 
praved and  diseased  wrecks  of  debauch,  is  abhorrent  to  justice 
and  humanity.  Aged  men  and  women  who  have  led  upright 
and  honorable  lives  of  ceaseless  industry  in  some  cases  would 
rather  die  of  starvation  than  accept  the  undeserved  stigma 
and  be  exposed  to  the  repulsive  association  of  the  poorhouse. 
Yet  a  high  percentage  of  aged  laborers  are  obliged  to  accept 
relief  in  some  form.  It  is  a  shame  to  call  it  charity,  when 
as  a  rule  these  laborers  have  contributed  to  the  abundance 
of  the  well-to-do  over  and  above  the  amount  returned  to 


176  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

them  in  wages.  There  should  be  in  force  in  our  country,  as 
abroad,  a  system  of  old-age  pensions  like  that  described  in 
a  former  section,  adapted  to  secure  them  justice.  Till  that 
comes  to  pass  there  might  be  municipal  or  county  "old  peo- 
ple's homes"  like  that  in  Boston,  where  the  self-respecting 
aged  are  cared  for  apart  from  all  other  classes  of  dependents. 
In  some  of  our  larger  counties  there  should  be,  in  connec- 
tion with  the  county  home,  a  separate  cottage  for  aged 
couples,  and  possibly  also  aged  individuals,  who  have  behind 
them  a  good  working  record.  As  a  first  temporary  step  sep- 
arate bedrooms  and  separate  sitting-rooms  might  be  provided 
in  poorhouses  for  men  and  for  women  who  meet  certain 
requirements. 

Care  of  the  Physically  Defective. — The  second  general  class 
of  dependents  is  made  up  of  those  whose  inability  to  support 
themselves  is  due  to  some  physical  defect.  These  defects  are 
of  various  kinds. 

i.  Insanity  is  the  name  given  to  a  class  of  bodily  diseases 
which  manifest  themselves  in  disturbance  of  the  processes  of 
consciousness.  Insanity  has  been  interpreted  as  the  intrusion 
of  a  foreign  soul,  a  demon,  in  the  body  and  therefore  as  a 
supernatural  visitation  or  a  sign  that  the  individual  was  no 
longer  truly  human;  and  these  notions  have  caused  and  still 
cause  unreasonable  cruelty  and  lack  of  sympathy  in  the  treat- 
ment of  these  dreadful  diseases.  Another  important  popular 
notion  is  that  insanity  is  a  disgrace.  It  may  be  in  fact  the 
result  of  heroic  endurance.  It  is  true  that  it  is  often  due 
to  venereal  disease  or  to  alcoholism,  and  that  some  families 
have  a  precariously  balanced  nervous  organization  that  is 
liable  to  become  deranged;  but  it  is  also  true  that  insanity 
is  no  more  a  certain  indication  of  hereditary  taint  or  of  vice 
than  death  from  pneumonia  is  of  alcoholism. 

These  diseases  are  in  many  instances  curable,  but  the 
probability  of  cure  diminishes  with  great  rapidity  if  the  early 
symptoms  are  allowed  to  continue  without  expert  treatment; 
and  it  is  unfortunately  true  that,  because  of  superstitious 
dread  or  sense  of  disgrace  or  the  existing  legal  barrier  to 
voluntary  application  for  /treatment  at  public  institutions,  the 


TYPES  OF  POVERTY  177 

necessary  expert  care  is  frequently  not  received  until  the 
possibility  of  cure  is  past.  This  is  one  abuse  in  the  care 
of  the  insane  and  of  the  mentally  disturbed  who  may  perhaps 
be  threatened  with  insanity.  There  should  be  psychopathic 
clinics  open  to  such  persons  without  legal  formality.  To  such 
a  clinic  parents  should  go  unhesitatingly  on  the  first  appear- 
ance of  neurotic  symptoms  in  a  child.  In  this  way  many 
cures  would  be  effected  in  cases  that  under  the  present  condi- 
tions are  allowed  to  develop  into  confirmed  insanity.1 

Another  abuse  is  the  retention  of  insane  persons,  especially 
the  so-called  harmless  insane,  in  places  where  there  is  not  only 
no  possibility  of  remedial  treatment  but  also  no  provision  for 
humane  treatment.  Girls  are  chained  to  bedposts  and  sick 
old  men  shut  in  grated  cages.  Most  poorhouses  have  har- 
bored insane  persons,  frequently  in  grated  cells,  'sometimes 
in  chains.  The  most  progressive  legislation  positively  pro- 
hibits their  retention  in  any  institutions  but  those  designed 
for  insane  patients.  These  institutions  are  best  if  not  housed 
in  great  barracks  but  arranged  on  the  cottage  system  where 
adequate  classification  is  possible  and  separation  of  patients 
from  other  patients  that  interfere  with  their  comfort  and  their 
recovery.  The  patients  should  be  provided  with  abundant 
occupation  of  such  a  sort  as  they  are  able  to  perform,  "re- 
educated" to  the  performance  of  light  handicrafts,  and  should 
have  as  much  of  their  occupation  as  possible  in  the  open  air. 
Occupation  is  a  curative  agency  and  even  when  all  agencies 

*In  1913  the  state  of  New  York  initiated  the  experiment  of  treat- 
ing the  mentally  diseased  in  their  homes,  as  "out-patients,"  during  the 
incipient  stages  or  when  provisionally  discharged  from  hospital. 
Nearly  one-third  of  the  5,000  new  patients  admitted  to  New  York 
state  hospitals  for  the  insane  during  1911  had  been  mentally  diseased 
for  at  least  a  year.  Thus  the  state  began  the  annual  expenditure  of 
millions  of  dollars  in  the  treatment  of  patients  who  had  already  passed 
the  period  when  every  dollar  expended  could  have  done  as  much  as 
^en  expended  later  on.  It  may  be  hoped  that  this  movement  will  lead 
to  the  maintenance  of  psychopathic  clinics  in  various  parts  of  the 
state  where  the  mother  who  has  a  child  that  is  "different"  from 
others,  and  the  adult  who  is  sensible  of  neural  change  or  disturbance 
in  himself  or  a  relative  may  find  council  that  will  lead  to  the  preven- 
tion of  catastrophy. 


i;8  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

must  fail  to  produce  a  cure,  still  occupation  may  make  life  tol- 
erable and  even  cheerful  to  those  who,  if  herded  in  idleness  in  a 
crowd  of  the  insane,  would  sink  into  hopeless  and  unutterable 
misery.  Continuous  life  as  an  inmate  of  one  of  the  wards 
of  an  old-fashioned  insane  asylum,  daily  and  hourly  witness- 
ing the  pitiful  exhibitions  of  the  insane,  would  seem  enough 
to  make  a  sane  person  crazy.  We  are  still  pitifully  ignorant 
upon  the  subject  of  insanity  and  ill  supplied  with  therapeutic 
measures.  The  states  should  provide  liberally  for  research 
in  this  field. 

2.  Closely  allied  with  insanity  is  epilepsy,  a  malady  pe- 
culiarly pitiful  because  its  victims  in  the  intervals  between 
their   seizures  may  be  endowed  with  admirable   attractions 
and  powers,  which  in  most  cases  are  prevented  from  bearing 
their  normal  fruit  of  joy  and  usefulness,  and  these  unfor- 
tunates  are   overshadowed   by  the   dread   of   their   horrible 
attacks.    Epilepsy  usually  involves  the  decay  of  powers,  and 
is  linked  with  various  forms  of  physical  degeneracy.     It  is 
even  said  that  all  born  criminals  are  epileptic.     While  the 
American  states  make  expensive  provision   for  the  custody 
of  their  insane,  the  public  care  of  epileptics  is  in  its  infancy. 
Several  states  maintain  colonies  for  epileptics  where  normal 
occupation  and  enjoyable  society  can  be  provided,  but  where 
marriage  is  prevented.     About  half  the   offspring  born   of 
epileptic  parents  are  epileptic  and  practically  all  of  the  other 
half   show   some   serious   abnormality.     Such  facts  make  the 
prevention  of  marriage  a  social  duty.     The  epileptic  colony 
should  be  a  large  area  where  the  life  of  the  inmates  is  as 
much  as  possible  like  that  of  a  normal  village,  with  shops, 
fields  and  places  of  entertainment,  where  the  intervals  between 
seizures  can  be  spent  in  work  and  pleasures.     The  work  of 
inmates  should  go  far  toward  maintaining  the  colony.     And 
adequate  provisions  should  be  made  for  safety  in  time  of 
seizure,  for  improvement  of  the  improvable,  and  for  the  entire 
prevention  of  propagation. 

3.  The  feeble-minded  and  their  treatment  will  be  discussed 
on  page  249.    They  are  prolific  if  allowed  to  be  at  large  and 
pass  on  their  defect  to  offspring  that  burden  society  with 


TYPES  OF  POVERTY  179 

cost  and  infest  it  with  perils.  Their  own  happiness,  and  the 
protection  of  society,  require  that  {hey  be  isolated  in  homes 
or  colonies. 

4.  Sickness  is  the  most  constant  of  all  the  causes  of  pov- 
erty, and  is  responsible  for  at  least  one-fifth  of  the  cases 
requiring  charity.  The  thing  most  to  be  desired  is  to  reduce 
the  vast  amount  of  preventable  sickness  which  exists  among 
the  poor.  The  sick  but  curable  require  temporary  aid  with 
avoidance  of  pauperization  and  permanent  dependence.  The 
requirement  of  the  family  impoverished  by  the  curable  sick- 
ness of  its  breadwinner  is  his  complete  cure.  This  should  be 
studiously  promoted,  if  only  from  motives  of  economy,  lest 
permanent  dependence  ensue.  The  sick  are  cared  for  by  insti- 
tutions of  three  classes.  The  first  are  dispensaries  and  hos- 
pitals. The  second  are  convalescent  homes  where  patients 
may  be  taken  when  they  no  longer  require  the  more  expensive 
treatment  of  the  hospital.  It  is  often  better  as  well  as  far 
more  economical  to  found  a  convalescent  home  than  to  enlarge 
the  hospitals.  The  convalescent  home  can  be  in  the  edge  of 
the  city  away  from  smoke  and  noise.  Its  atmosphere  is  one 
of  hope.  Many  a  patient  is  discharged  from  the  hospital  in 
order  to  make  room  for  sicker  patients  as  soon  as  sufficiently 
recovered  to  expect  reestablishment  of  health  under  favor- 
able conditions,  and  in  the  absence  of  a  convalescent  home 
is  returned  to  the  crowded  tenement  and  the  factory  while 
still  weak,  an  easy  prey  to  new  diseases  and  unable  to  re- 
establish sound  and  permanent  health  in  that  unfavorable 
environment.  Third,  are  the  homes  for  the  incurables  de- 
signed to  provide  for  persons  who  even  in  the  well-to-do 
home  cannot  be  properly  cared  for  or  who  would  be  too 
heavy  a  burden  upon  a  home  of  poverty.  A  special  class  of 
the  sick  are  the  victims  of  alcohol  and  other  drugs.  Though 
their  first  trouble  may  have  been  moral  weakness,  there  is 
no  doubt  that  they  finally  become  sick  and  that  in  their  latter 
condition  they  are  unable  to  shake  off  the  habit  that  de- 
stroys them,  while  after  a  course  of  proper  physical  and 
moral  treatment  they  may  be  saved  to  themselves  and  to 
society.  The  usefulness  of  special  sanitaria  for  this  class 


i8o  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

bf  cases  with  compulsory  detention,  has  been  proved  by 
experience.  0 

The  non-institutional  care  of  the  sick  includes  the  work  of 
visiting  nurses'  associations,  which  provide  necessary  attend- 
ance in  the  homes  of  the  poor,  and  give  instruction  to  the 
families  they  visit  as  to  the  proper  feeding  and  care  of 
invalids  and  babies  as  well  as  in  the  general  preservation  of 
the  health. 

The  principle  of  substituting  justice  wherever  possible  for 
so-called  charity  would  dictate  the  system  of  insurance,  pre- 
viously mentioned,  against  sickness  and  permanent  invalidity 
of  laborers. 

5.  The  crippled  for  the  most  part  should  be  beneficiaries 
of  industrial  accident  insurance.    In  a  few  instances  they  are 
proper  inmates  for  homes  for  incurables.     Often  they  may 
become   self-supporting.     For  instance,  a   legless  man  may 
be  an  expert  cigar-maker,  stenographer,  or  telegrapher.    Very 
frequently  they  become  mere  beggars,  or  venders  of  pencils, 
court-plaster,  shoestrings,  and  the  like,  selling  poor  goods  at 
high  prices  and  expecting  to  "keep   the  change."     If  they 
peddle  they  should  be  licensed  as  other  peddlers  are  and  upon 
the  same  terms.    It  is  a  demoralizing  thing  for  men  to  trade 
upon  their  misfortunes.     Frequently  their  injuries  are  faked, 
skin  scalded  by  chemicals  is  carefully  unbandaged  and  exhib- 
ited as  evidence  of  suffering  in  a  boiler  accident,  and  the 
like.    All  beggars  should  be  referred  to  the  charity  agent  of 
the  locality.     No  beggars  should  be  allowed  upon  the  street. 
They  should  be  cared  for  in  ways  that  are  better  for  them 
and  for  all  concerned. 

6.  The  deaf,  dumb  and  blind  are  properly  provided  for 
in  institutions  which  may  bear  the  double  name  of  "School 
and  Home."    This  name  corresponds  to  the  two  requirements 
which  this  class   of  persons   present,   namely:  first,   special 
education  that  will  give  their   lives   cheer  -and   worth   and 
render   them   completely   or   partially    self-supporting;    and, 
second,  an  abode  for  those  who  would  fall  into  poverty  and 
misery  without  custodial  care,  and  for  some  whose  malady  is 
transmissible  and  who  must  therefore  be  permanently  isolated 


TYPES  OF  POVERTY  181 

from  society.  Many  of  the  deaf  and  dumb  and  blind  can 
leave  the  special  school  and  take  their  places  in  society  as 
self-supporting  citizens.  The  blind  beggar,  should  disappear 
from  the  streets  of  every  well  regulated  community;  indeed, 
the  demoralizing  occupation  of  beggary  should  be  wholly 
abolished. 

Dependency  Due  to  Moral  Abnormality. — According  to  the 
enumeration  with  which  this  chapter  opened  the  third  class 
of  dependents  is  composed  of  those  whose  poverty  is  due 
to  moral  defect. 

Moral  defect  is  closely  related  to  physical  defect.  Often, 
though  by  no  means  always,  laziness  is  undervitalization  and 
neurasthenia.  Shiftlessness  and  incompetence  are  character- 
istic of  the  feeble-minded  of  the  highest  class,  the  morons, 
some  of  whom  in  certain  gifts  may  even  excel  the  average 
person. 

Quarrelsomeness,  insubordination,  and  general  inability  to 
"get  along"  with  superintendents  and  fellow  workmen; 
drunkenness,  licentiousness,  idleness,  wanderlust,  absence  of 
self-respect  and  ambition,  and  in  general  the  lack  of  the 
disciplined  habits  which  are  described  by  the  good  old- 
fashioned  designation  of  "steadiness/!  unfit  men  for  retain- 
ing any  desirable  place  in  the  industrial  organization. 

The  typical  hobo  is  the  child  of  impulse.  Mere  impulse, 
though  it  be  sociable  and  generous  as  often  as  it  is  sensual 
and  heartless,  does  not  make  man  fit  to  occupy  a  place  in 
society.  The  habit  of  choosing  between  impulses  and  even 
of  suppressing  present  impulse  in  obedience  to  the  far- 
reaching  purposes  of  reason  must  be  formed  if  one  is  to  be 
fit  to  live  a  human  life.  Obedience  is  the  parent  of  mastery. 
Moral  impotence  may  be  partly  due  to  an  inborn  crotchet, 
or  to  a  dilution  of  the  powers  by  hard  conditions  of  life,  but 
they  are  the  characteristic  products  of  bad  rearing,  due  to 
illegitimacy,  orphaning,  break  up  of  homes  by  divorce  or 
desertion,  parental  absorption  in  business  or  pleasure,  quick 
change  that  makes  the  rearing  of  one  generation  unsuited 
to  the  next,  or  mere  lack  of  wholesome  family  traditions. 
Obviously  these  faults  tend  to  perpetuate  themselves  from 


182  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

generation  to  generation.  The  trained  charity  worker  who 
gains  a  helpful  intimacy  with  the  children,  the  friendly  visitor, 
the  probation  officer,  the  Sunday  School  or  day  teacher,  the  set- 
tlement worker,  the  example  of  thrifty  neighbors  and  associ- 
ates, and  sometimes  marriage  into  a  better  trained  family,  may 
break  the  chain  of  moral  incompetence. 

To  the  bad  qualities  enumerated  must  be  added  the  moral 
disease  of  pauperism.  Pauperism  as  a  term  of  social  and 
ethical  description  corresponds  to  parasitism  as  a  biological 
term.  The  moral  disease  of  pauperism  consists  in  willingness 
to  get  all  one  can  from  society  while  indifferent  to  playing 
any  productive  part  in  society.  Moral  paupers  are  mainly  of 
two  classes :  first,  the  idle  rich  who  make  great  economic 
demands  upon  society  which  they  are  able  to  satisfy  by  control 
of  "unearned  increments"  or  by  taking  toll  directly  or  indi- 
rectly upon  the  labor  of  others;  and,  second,  those  who  con- 
fine themselves  to  such  small  economic  demands  as  are  sup- 
plied by  the  good  nature  of  society.  Society  has  not  always 
recognized  its  rich  paupers  as  morally  diseased,  but  now  at 
length  the  gilded  youth  who  is  a  mere  idler  and  spender, 
whether  vicious  in  his  pleasures  or  a  mere  dilettante,  begins 
to  suffer  a  little  in  social  standing  and  self-respect.  To  be 
sure,  as  there  is  a  "criminal  milieu"  in  which  men  boast  of 
cracking  safes  and  eluding  detectives  and  stand  high  in 
proportion  to  the  magnitude  of  their  crimes,  so  also  there  is 
a  "smart  set"  in  which  people  advertise  their  bad  taste  and 
lack  of  sane  standards  of  ambition  by  vying  with  each  other 
in  ostentation  and  stand  high  in  proportion  as  they  display 
wealth  by  extravagant  expenditures.  And  both  of  these 
classes  by  the  startling  contrast  they  exhibit  to  the  ordinary 
course  of  life  excite  attention  and  "make  copy"  for  the  news- 
papers; yet  neither  the  one  nor  the  other  sets  the  standard 
of  judgment  for  normal  men.  It  is  true  that  as  yet  the  rich 
young  man  may  escape  the  odium  which  is  beginning  to  attach 
to  the  mere  idler  and  spender  by  simply  going  into  business 
and  striving  to  concentrate  on  himself  a  still  larger  share  of 
the  social  income.  If  such  a  man  goes  into  business  too  little 
discrimination  is  made  as  to  whether  he  merely  becomes  a 


TYPES  OF  POVERTY  183 

dealer  in  stocks,  discounting  the  future  and  betting  on  inside 
information  in  a  sort  of  grand  gambling  with  loaded  dice, 
sharing  in  manipulations  that  are  large-scale  "sure-thing" 
robbery,  or  engages  in  other  forms  of  exploitations;  or,  on 
the  other  hand,  whether  he  sets  about  developing  the  pro- 
ductivity of  great  enterprises.  It  is  true  also  that  careers  of 
artistic,  literary,  scientific,  philanthropic  and  political  achieve- 
ment attract  as  yet  comparatively  few  of  the  very  rich;  yet 
there  are  to  be  ages  of  progress,  a  century  is  a  short  span  in 
the  course  of  social  evolution,  and  the  development  of  moral 
standards,  though  slow,  when  once  begun  is  likely  to  be 
sure. 

At  this  point,  however,  it  is  only  for  consistency  of  defini- 
tion that  we  need  refer  to  the  rich  pauper ;  our  attention  must 
here  be  given  to  the  poor  pauper,  the  recipient  of  alms. 
Legally  all  who  receive  charity  at  the  expense  of  a  political 
body  are  paupers,  and  colloquially  the  term  is  sometimes  ap- 
plied to  all  the  needy,  but  by  no  means  all  of  the  very  poor, 
any  more  than  all  of  the  very  rich,  are  moral  paupers,  willing 
parasites.  On  the  contrary  some  of  the  very  poor  make  heroic 
struggles  against  the  acceptance  of  alms  and  if  compelled 
by  misfortune  or  cruel  conditions  to  seek  relief,  cease  to 
receive  it  as  soon  as  self-support  becomes  possible  and  some- 
times even  regard  it  as  a  loan  to  be  repaid  to  the  giver  or 
to  other  needy  folk,  when  times  mend.  The  moral  paupers 
here  to  be  discussed  are  those  who,  finding  the  struggle  for 
honest  maintenance  hard  and  finding  the  satisfaction  of  their 
standard  of  living  by  beggary  and  usually  by  some  fraud  to 
be  easy,  throw  themselves  flat  upon  the  good  nature  of  the- 
public.  Unless  some  plan  of  prevention  is  resorted  to,  every 
city  has  its  quota  of  resident  town  bums  and  dead-beats ;  and 
the  army  of  tramps,  or  vagrant  beggars,  in  the  United  States 
constantly  numbers,  according  to  different  estimates,  from 
sixty  to  one  hundred  thousand.  Of  these,  five-eighths  are 
said  to  be  native-born  Americans ;  next  in  number  come  the 
Irish,  and  then  the  Germans.  Only  about  one-tenth  of  them 
are  entirely  illiterate.  These  people  are  deserters  from  life's 
responsibilities;  often  the  men  have  wives  toiling  somewhere 


184  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

over  washtubs  to  support  the  children  whom  they  have  be- 
gotten. They  have  been  tolled  away  by  careless  almsgiving. 
Society  can  have  about  as  many  beggars  as  it  chooses  to  feed. 
Indiscriminate  giving  to  strangers  in  all  cities  and  large  towns 
should  cease  entirely.  In  every  such  community  there  should 
be  one  central  agency  to  which  these  applicants  are  sent  by 
all  to  whom  they  apply.  By  this  central  agency  the  deserving 
applicant  would  often  be  given  far  better  help  than  the  meal 
at  the  back  door  which  only  enables  him  to  continue  in  beg- 
gary. As  far  as  possible  he  would  be  given  aid  in  securing 
employment  or  whatever  his  necessity  demanded.  At  the 
same  time  even  the  professional  tramp  need  not  be  turned 
away  hungry.  There  would,  however,  be  no  place  in  that 
community  where  the  tramp  could  beg  a  meal  except  the 
central  agency,  and  to  such  a  community  few  tramps  want 
to  come.  This  implies,  however,  a  very  difficult  condition, 
namely,  that  promiscuous  begging  and  almsgiving  has  been 
entirely  suppressed,  by  the  intelligence  of  householders,  and 
the  activity  of  the  police.  In  every  large  town  some  agency 
should  provide  a  chance  to  work  half  a  day  in  return  for 
lodging  and  a  simple  supper  and  breakfast.  The  habitual 
vagrant  parasite  when  convicted,  by  aid  of  telegraphic  or 
telephonic  messages  to  other  towns  from  which  he  had  come 
or  from  which  he  professed  to  have  come,  or  by  other  evi- 
dence, should  be  confined  in  the  workhouse,  as  a  deterrent 
against  this  form  of  desertion  and  parasitism,  as  a  protec- 
tion against  the  moral  contagion  and  the  easily  concealed 
crimes  of  irresponsible  vagrants,  as  well  as  against  the  petty 
blackmail  which  they  levy  upon  housekeepers,  and  as  an  op- 
portunity for  enforced  industrial  education.  At  present  we 
have  almost  no  workhouses  adapted  to  this  purpose. 

It  is  not  so  easy  to  maintain  a  central  agency  for  adminis- 
tering charity  and  dealing  with  tramps  in  sparsely  settled 
regions  but  even  here  the  same  principles  apply,  and  "select- 
men" or  "supervisors"  or  a  clergyman  may  properly  dis- 
charge this  function  if  enlightened  as  to  proper  methods.  In 
some  sections  of  Germany  stations  are  maintained  at  intervals 
on  the  main  thoroughfares  where  the  wayfarer  may  secure, 


TYPES  OF  POVERTY  185 

supper,  lodging  and  breakfast  in  return  for  labor,  and  the 
necessity  for  the  honest  man  and  the  terpotation  for  the 
tramp  to  beg  from  door  to  door  are  thus  abolished.  Of 
course  even  such  an  agency  depends  for  success  upon  the  co- 
operation of  the  public,  who  refer  all  strangers  applying  for 
alms  to  its  ministrations. 

The  Unemployed  but  Employable. — The  Charity  Organiza- 
tion Society  of  New  York  has  reported  that  from  43  per  cent, 
to  52  per  cent,  of  all  applicants  need  work  rather  than  material 
aid.  The  unemployed  and  their  families  must  in  general  be 
tided  over  either  by  industrial  insurance,1  by  labor  union  bene- 
fits, or  by  charity.  The  problem  of  the  unemployed  cannot  be 
solved  by  charity,  but  only  by  insurance  and  reorganization  of 
industry. 

There  is  a  permanent  surplus  of  labor  of  the  very  lowest 
grade,  largely  corresponding  in  its  membership  with  the 
classes  of  "physically"  and  "morally"  impoverished.  But 
there  is  also  unemployment  among  the  normal  and  employ- 
able who  want  to  work.  And  it  is  with  these  that  the  present 
section  deals.  At  the  time  of  the  census  of  1900,  2,634,336 
or  1 1. 1  per  cent,  of  all  males  over  10  years  of  age  engaged 
in  gainful  occupations  in  the  United  States  were  unemployed 
three  months  or  more  during  the  year.2 

Alternations  of  rush  seasons  with  dull  seasons,  when  many* 
laborers  are  thrown  out  of  work,  are  a  source  of  trouble  in 
many  industries,  especially  when  the  wages  are  not  high  even 
in  the  rush  periods.  Some  supplementary  occupation  during 
the  slack  periods  and  the  collocation  of  alternating  industries 
are  desirable.  The  location  of  certain  industries  in  the  agri- 
cultural regions,  providing  alternation  between  factory  work 
and  the  seasons  of  planting  and  harvest,  would  be  ideal, 
an  ideal  which  rural  cooperation  in  some  places  may  possibly 

1  "The  Danes  have  demonstrated  two  economic  truths :  first,  that 
unemployment  is  the  most  frequent  cause  of  pauperism,  and  second, 
that  insurance  is  the  most  effective  remedy  for  unemployment."  Prof. 
K.  Coman.  Survey,  xxxi,  742.  Denmark  is  not  alone  in  this. 

aF.  H.  Streightoff:  The  Standard  of  Living.  Houghton  Mifflin 
Co.,  1911,  p.  35- 


1 86  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

promote.  A  beginning  has  been  made  in  certain  fruit- 
growing sections  by  the  manufacture  of  baskets  and  crates. 
An  industry  to  be  best  adapted  to  this  alternation  with  agri- 
culture must  not  require  too  much  capital.  In  the  case  of 
most  seasonal  trades,  aside  from  agriculture,  there  is  no 
inherent  necessity  that  they  should  be  so  seasonal,  and  they 
ought  not  to  be  permitted  to  be  so. 

The  evil  of  unemployment  of  the  employable  is  likely  to 
be  great  when  times  are  hard,  building  operations  suspended, 
and  factories  closed  or  running  half  time.  At  such  times 
aid  might  be  found  in  pushing  forward  public  works,  and 
even  in  having  certain  state  enterprises  so  organized  that  they 
would  expand  their  labor  force  when  times  were  slack  and 
wages  low,  thus  affording  relief  to  the  unemployed  and  econ- 
omy to  the  state  with  no  tendency  to  pauperization.  In 
enterprises  of  the  latter  sort  the  wages  paid  would  be  small 
enough  so  that  men  would  not  be  attracted  away  from  normal 
industry,  but  would  turn  to  other  occupations  when  times 
were  good,  laboring  for  the  state  when  no  other  opportunity 
to  labor  was  open.  A  system  of  state  road  improvement 
would  afford  such  elastic  employment,  where  weather  condi- 
tions permit  such  labor  at  the  seasons  of  slackest  employ- 
ment. It  would  seem  that  it  ought  not  to  be  necessary  for 
'a  man  to  become  a  felon  or  even  a  misdemeanant  in  order 
to  be  sure  of  work.  It  is  possible  that 'in  connection  with 
the  disciplinary  labor  colonies  for  vagrants  and  other  mis- 
demeanants there  might  be  a  separate  department  for  volun- 
tary workers.  Here,  at  broom-making  or  some  other  indus- 
try requiring  little  skill,  little  capital  to  lie  idle  when  regular 
industry  called  the  workers,  and  having  a  sure  market,  the 
unemployed  willing  workers  would  then  be  sure  of  minimum 
wages.  They  should  be  piece  wages.  It  is  good  economy 
for  private  employers  to  push  on  repairs  and  extensions  in 
slack  times.  And  some  employers  have  begun  to  regard  it 
as  wise  and  right  to  retain  all  their  workers  on  part  -time 
rather  than  to  run  on  full  time  with  diminished  labor  force. 
Better  organization  of  private  industry  has  great  advantages 
over  public  intervention. 


TYPES  OF  POVERTY  187 

There  may  be  openings  for  laborers  in  one  locality  and 
elsewhere  laborers  suffering  for  work.  In  hard  times  laborers 
out  of  work  tramp  many  weary  miles  on  the  strength  of  a 
rumor  that  employment  is  to  be  had  at  a  given  point,  often 
only  to  find  that  these  great  distances  have  been  traversed  in 
vain.  There  ought  to  be  government  employment  agencies  with 
announcement  of  openings  displayed  in  every  post  office.  In 
certain  sections  of  Germany  the  government  railroads  have 
furnished  transportation  to  laborers  applying  to  such  agencies, 
the  fare  to  be  deducted  from  their  first  wages.  There 
should  be  interstate  cooperation  among  public  employment 
agencies ;  indeed  this  is  a  proper  sphere  for  federal  action 
under  the  Department  of  Commerce  and  Labor.  The  federal 
activity  already  includes  the  beginnings  of  an  agency  to  prop- 
erly locate  immigrants,  who  now  huddle  in  exploited  masses 
in  cities  and  about  great  industrial  plants,  by  furnishing 
them  information  as  to  the  places  where  they  will  be  most 
socially  useful  and  individually  successful.  Private  employ- 
ment agencies  have  been  guilty  of  many  abominable  prac- 
tices, robbing  their  clients,  and  also  promoting  commercial- 
ized vice.  They  require  strict  supervision  and  •  their  pro- 
prietors should  be  required  to  take  out  licenses  that  would 
be  forfeited  for  malpractices. 

Unemployment  of  the  willing  and  employable  not  only 
causes  distress  to  them  and  to  their  families  but  also  de- 
creases general  wealth  in  three  ways.  First,  it  is  waste  of 
an  economic  resource  to  allow  idleness  to  replace  willing 
labor.  Second,  the  unemployed  and  their  families  must  be 
supported  out  of  the  proceeds  of  the  industry  of  the  com- 
munity. Third,  idleness  tends  directly  and  in  various  ways 
to  physical  and  moral  deterioration  of  the  laborers  who  are 
compelled  to  "loaf."  The  tramping  or  train  riding  of  the 
honest  seeker  for  work  leads  not  seldom  to  family  desertion, 
and  the  easy  degenerate  life  of  the  hobo.  The  pathetic  and 
tragic  search  for  work  thus  ends  in  moral  and  economic  defeat 
and  surrender.  "Modern  life,"  says  John  Hobson,  "has  no 
more  tragical  figure  than  the  gaunt,  hungry  laborer,  wander- 
ing about  the  crowded  centers  of  industry  and  wealth,  beg- 


i88  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

ging  in  vain  for  permission  to  share  in  that  industry  and  to 
contribute  to  that  wealth ;  asking  in  return,  not  the  comforts 
and  luxuries  of  civilized  life,  but  the  rough  food  and  shelter 
for  himself  and  family,  which  would  be  practically  assured 
him  in  the  rudest  form  of  savage  society."  Mercy,  justice, 
and  the  defense  of  society  against  the  multiplication  of  de- 
generates demand  the  adoption  of  a  more  efficient  policy  with 
reference  to  "the  problem  of  the  unemployed."  It  is  beyond 
the  sphere  of  charity.  It  is  one  of  the  most  serious  defects 
in  our  industrial  organization.  If  it  affected  the  powerful  as 
it  does  the  weak  it  would  command  the  most  earnest  efforts 
at  amelioration. 

For  an  excellent  basis  for  discussion  presented  in  small  compass, 
see  John  B.  Andrews :  A  Practical  Program  for  the  Prevention  of 
Unemployment.  Published  by  the  American  Association  on  Unem- 
ployment, 131  E.  23d  St.,  N.  Y.,  1915. 

See  also  Frances  A.  Kellor:     Out  of  Work,  Putnam's,  1904. 


CHAPTER  XII 
CHARITY   ORGANIZATION 

Underlying  Principles. — To  abate  the  causes  which  contin- 
ually recruit  the  standing  army  of  the  miserable  is  the  first 
duty  of  society.  But  since  that  army  exists  there  is  an  obli- 
gation, which  every  civilized  nation  admits,  to  meet  by  charity 
the  necessities  of  those  who  under  existing  conditions  are 
unable  to  maintain  themselves.  Upon  this  subject  experi- 
ence has  rendered  clear  certain  principles : 

1.  Charity  must  be  guided  by  a  particular  knowledge  of 
cases.     Society,  as  we  have  seen,  can  have  about  as  many 
beggars  as  it  chooses  to  feed.    The  indiscriminate  distribution 
of  dimes  and  quarters  on  the  street  and  of  food  at  the  back 
door  makes  pauperism  instead  of  curing  it,  and  should  be 
stopped.    Distribution  of  groceries,  coal  and  clothing  by  public 
or  private  agencies  not  seldom  causes  more  evil  than  it  cures. 

2.  Mere  almsgiving  when  it  does  no   positive  harm  is 
usually  a  miserable  substitute  for  the  higher  charity  of  per- 
sonal service.    Temporary  material  relief  is  frequently  neces- 
sary, but  often  more  necessary  still  is  the  cooperation  of 
some  wise  and  experienced  individual  who  will  assist  the 
distressed  to  form  a  practical  plan  for  permanent  support 
and  for  restoration  to  economic  independence.     This  may  be 
accomplished  by  seeing  that  the  earning  power  of  the  partially 
incapacitated  is  restored,  by  securing*  the  formation  or  restora- 
tion  of   social   relationships   between   the   impoverished  and 
relatives,  employers,  church,  and  school;  by  preventing  the 
physical  or  moral  ruin  of  children,  and  by  other  constructive 
measures.     Well-meant  almsgiving  often  perpetuates  pauper- 
ism  where    highly    competent   personal   philanthropy   would 
cure  it.    Such  service  requires  that  someone  be  ready  to  give 
much  time.    And  it  must  be  the  time  of  a  person  gifted  with 

189 


Jipo  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

first-rate  abilities.  No  one  who  is  unable  to  make  his  or 
her  own  life  successful  need  expect  to  do  this  work,  for  here 
success  must  be  wrested  from  the  hardest  conditions.  The 
probability  of  success  is  greatly  increased  if  the  charity 
worker  has  had  special  training  and  opportunity  to  observe 
the  methods  by  which  many  cases  of  baffling  poverty  have 
been  successfully  met. 

3.  There  is  more  need  of  justice  than  of  charity.     Indis- 
criminate  public   charity   has    sometimes    helped    to   depress 
wages,  acting  as  a  partial  offset  to   injustice  between  em- 
ployer and  employed.     There  is  at  present  little  or  no  im- 
minent danger  that  charity  will  slacken  the  struggle  for  justice 
on  the  part  of  the  poor.     The  struggle  of  organized  labor  to 
raise  wages  is  intense  and  there  is  no  reason  to  think  that  it  is 
at  present  made  less  so  by  properly  administered  private  char- 
ity.   The  only  danger  in  this  respect  is  that  interest  in  charity 
will  satisfy  the  consciences  of  the  well-disposed  and  well-to-do 
and  direct  their  attention  from  the  more  fundamental  problem 
of  justice.     On  the  other  hand  the  study  of  the  problem  of 
poverty  by  the  various  agents  of  charity  has  been  one  of 
the  chief  means  of   securing  for  the   laborers  the  interest, 
understanding,  and  sympathetic  cooperation  of  the  well-to-do, 
which   appear   to   be   indispensable    to    the    success    of    the 
necessary  reforms. 

4.  The  cessation  of  charity  would  invite  untold  needless 
suffering,  would  outrage  or  deaden  the  generous  sentiments 
of  man,  and  set  at  naught  the  principle  of  Christianity:    "Bear 
ye  one  another's  burdens  and  so  fulfill  the  law  of  Christ."    The 
refusal  of  charity  may  result  from  ignorance  of  the  condi- 
tions of  the-  unfortunate  .poor,  such  that  their  suffering  has 
no  chance  to  make  its  appeal  to  sympathy;  or  it  may  result 
from  caste  folly  which  refuses  to  acknowledge  our  common 
humanity;  or  it  may  result  from  pure  selfishness.     In  multi- 
tudes of  cases  charity  has  been  pitifully  inadequate  and  mis- 
directed when  it  might  have  wrought  great  benefits.     It  is 
not  enough,  however,  for  charity  to  be  abundant  and  well 
meaning.    It  must  also  be  wise. 

Institutional   and  Non-institutional   Relief. — The   expres- 


CHARITY  ORGANIZATION  191 

sions  "outdoor  relief"  and  "indoor  relief"  have  become  tech- 
nical terms  among  students  of  charity.  Originally  they  were 
English  legal  terms  denoting  charity  supplied  by  public  funds 
inside  and  outside  the  poorhoUse.  In  that  usage  outdoor 
relief  included  that  afforded  by  hospitals  and  asylums.  This 
confusing  use  of  words  has  been  further  confused  by  the 
fact  that  different  writers  have  assigned  to  these  expres- 
sions meanings  at  variance  with  their  original  legal  sig- 
nificance. Their  simplest  and  most  intelligible  use  is  to  make 
"indoor"  mean  institutional  and  "outdoor"  mean  non- 
institutional  relief.  Even  then  some  obscurity  remains,  for 
the  care  of  the  poor  in  their  homes  is  still  classed  as  "out- 
door relief."  This  incongruity  is  avoided  and  perfect  defini- 
tion secured  if  we  cast  aside  these  old  terms  and  speak  instead 
of  institutional  and  non-institutional  charity. 

Institutional  charity  is  generally  a  function  of  govern- 
mental agencies.  Even  private  institutions  should  be  subject 
to  governmental  inspection.  It  is  easy  for  the  public  to  put 
its  unfortunates  into  institutions-  and  forget  them,  and  even 
under  well-intentioned  management  the  situation  invites 
abuses  unless  the  laws  provide  for  visitation  by  persons  se- 
lected and  authorized  by  high,  responsible  authority,  at  least 
some  of  whom  are  known  to  be  conversant  with  the  prin- 
ciples of  scientific  charity. 

On  the  other  hand  in  the  United  States  non-institutional 
relief  has  hitherto  been  properly  the  function  of  private  char- 
ity. In  countries  where  bureaucratic  efficiency  is  highly 
developed  and  is  divorced  from  party  politics,  outdoor  relief 
can  be  administered  successfully  by  governmental  agencies 
and  may  even  be  so  extended  as  nearly  or  quite  to  render 
the  almshouse  unnecessary.  But  experience  has  clearly  shown 
that  in  this  country  ministration  by  public  agents  to  tem- 
porary and  unclassified  want  in  non-institutional  relief,  espe- 
cially in  large  places,  tends  to  degenerate  into  indiscriminate 
and  pauperizing  distribution  of  free  groceries  and  coal,  more 
particularly  to  those  that  vote  with  the  party  in  power.  In 
some  instances  an  intolerable  burden  of  public  outdoor  charity 
has  been  suddenly  dropped  by  announcing  that  recipients  of 


192  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY, 

public  charity  must  find  it  by  entering  the  almshouse,  and 
"there  is  no  well-authenticated  instance  where  public  non-insti- 
tutional relief  has  been  stopped  and  any  considerable  increase 
has  resulted  either  in  demands  upon  private  charity  or  in  the 
number  of  inmates  in  institutions."  In  the  city  of  Buffalo 
during  the  year  preceding  the  organization  in  that  city  of 
the  first  charity  organization  society  in  "America,  more  than 
ten  per  cent,  of  the  population  were  receiving  outdoor  city 
aid.  At  the  same  time  in  Brooklyn  one  person  in  every  six- 
teen of  the  population  was  receiving  outdoor  relief.  "One 
woman  received  help  under  nine  different  names.  Many 
sold  what  they  receive^.  Men  came  from  the  country  every 
autumn  to  live  at  the  expense  of  the  city  during  the  winter."  x 
"As  administered  in  the  United  States,  it  is  found,  apparently, 
that  public  outdoor  relief  educates  more  people  for  the  alms- 
house  than  it  keeps  out  of  it,  and  therefore  it  is  neither  eco- 
nomical nor  kindly." 2  In  some  small  cities  public  non- 
institutional  relief  is  tolerably  managed.  There  such  public 
relief  is  most  successful  and  least  injurious,  this  is  because  of 
close  cooperation  between  the  public  authority  and  a  voluntary 
private  agency  that  supplies  the  necessary  personal  acquaint- 
ance with  the  recipients  and  their  needs  before  the  grant  is 
allowed  and  which  continues  acquaintance  with  each  case  after 
the  grant  has  been  made  and  so  long  as  aid  is  required.  In 
rare  instances  an  admirable  arrangement  has  been  put  in  oper- 
ation by  which  a  non-political  official  trained  for  charity  work 
is  supported  partly  by  a  charity  organization  society  and  partly 
by  the  county  or  city,  and  acts  under  appointment  as  the 
municipal  or  court  supervisor  of  the  poor,  with  responsibility 
over  the  expenditure  of  public  relief. 

The  time  may  come  when  gradual  transfer  of  non-institu- 
tional relief  to  public  officials  may  be  wise  economy  of  time 
and  effort.  If  so,  this  will  be  due  not  only  to  improvement  in 
methods  of  public  administration  and  deliverance  from  the 
spoils  system,  but  also  to  the  fact  that  private  charity  will 
have  developed  a  class  of  workers  having  the  necessary  train- 

1  Warner:     American  Charities,  p.  231. 
"Ibid.,  p.  235. 


CHARITY  ORGANIZATION  193 

ing  and  will  have  made  the  necessity  of  such  special  training 
clear  to  the  public  mind. 

The  Elberfeld  System. — This  system  of  charity,  so  named 
from  the  German  city  in  which  it  developed,  is  based  upon 
the  unpaid  personal  service  of  citizens  acting  in  systematic  co- 
operation with  each  other  and  with  the  paid  professional  super- 
intendent. "The  fundamental  principle  of  the  Elberfeld  sys- 
tem might  also  be  expressed  thus:  thorough  examination  of 
each  individual  dependent,  continued  careful  guardianship 
during  the  period  of  dependence,  and  constant  effort  to  help 
him  regain  economic  independence.  But  these  requirements 
can  be  fulfilled  only  through  the  assistance  and  cooperation  of 
a  sufficient  number  of  well-qualified  persons." 

The  persons  chosen  for  this  service  are  citizens  of  charac- 
ter and  ability,  and  they  not  merely  examine,  report,  and  act 
as  friendly  visitors,  but  also  cooperate  in  deciding  the  plans 
of  rehabilitation  adopted  in  each  case  referred  to  them.  They 
are  selected  and  appointed  by  the  city  government  and  are 
required  to  serve  as  an  honorable  patriotic  duty.  If  they 
decline,  a  percentage  may  be  added  to  their  taxes  and  they 
may  be  deprived  of  their  vote  at  municipal  elections.  This 
service  is  regarded  as  the  first  step  in  official  preferment,  and 
is  often  essential  to  further  advancement.  The  section  of  the 
city  assigned  to  any  individual  is  small  so  that  usually  only 
one  or  two  cases  and  never  more  than  four  will  be  under  the 
care  of  a  single  visitor.  The  visitor  is  to  become  thoroughly 
acquainted  with  his  section  and  interest  himself  in  the  general 
improvement  of  its  conditions. 

The  sections  are  grouped  into  districts  and  the  visitors  of 
a  district  hold  regular  and  frequent  meetings.  The  appoint- 
ments are  so  made  that  persons  of  diverse  social  classes,  bank- 
ers, lawyers,  tradesmen,  mechanics,  gather  in  these  district 
meetings  to  consult  upon  the  problem  of  poverty.  And  the 
wisdom  and  experience  of  all  the  visitors  in  the  district  is 
brought  to  bear  upon  the  plans  to  be  formed  for  each  case. 
The  chairmen  of  all  the  districts  also  hold  regular  meetings 
with  the  representatives  of  the  city  government  who  are  as- 
signed to  this  duty.  This  central  board  includes  a  specially 


194  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

trained  paid  administrator  and  paid  assistants.  It  prepares 
general  instructions  for  visitors,  advises  the  district  leaders, 
and  may  review  the  action  of  the  district  boards.  It  divides 
the  city  into  sections  and  districts,  appoints  visitors,  supervises 
hospitals  and  other  charitable  institutions,  keeps  the  central 
records,  gathers  statistics,  investigates  causes  of  poverty,  and 
initiates  legislation  and  other  measures  of  amelioration. 

Judged  by  its  results  and  by  the  number  of  cities,  par- 
ticularly in  Germany  and  Austria,  that  have  adopted  and  still 
maintain  the  Elberfeld  plan,  it  must  be  regarded  as  the  best 
system  of  local  charity  in  Europe  and  probably  the  best  in 
the  world. 

The  main  features  of  the  Elberfeld  system  might  be  widely 
adopted,  but  success  would  depend  upon  wise  adaptation  to 
local  conditions.  'In  most  American  cities,  instead  of  assign- 
ing sections  of  the  city  it  might  be  necessary  to  assign  to  each 
visitor  specific  cases. 

Charity  Organization  Societies. — Proper  administration  of 
voluntary  and  unofficial  charity  in  any  large  community  in  the 
United  States  practically  requires  the  activities  of  a  charity 
organization  society,  though  the  society  may  operate  under 
any  one  of  various  names.  Its  ministrations  are  to  charity 
like  what  first  aid  to  the  injured  is  to  surgery  and  what  diag- 
nosis and  prescription  are  to  medicine.  It  may  mean  quick 
recovery  and,  if  unwise,  it  may  mean  permanent,  crippling 
pauperism.  Such  an  organization  should  not  be  formed  until 
every  effort  has  been  put  forth  to  secure  the  cooperation  in 
its  formation  of  all  the  charitable  agencies  in  the  community. 
The  importance  of  this  cooperation  will  appear  as  the  purposes 
of  the  organization  are  described.  The  charity  organization 
society  serves  the  following  purposes. 

1.  Prevention  of  Overlapping  and  Imposture. — In  any  city, 
previous  to  the  advent  of  the  charity  organization  society, 
numerous  useful  charities  spring  up.  A  city  of  twenty-five 
thousand  will  probably  have  ten  or  more  churches  and  a  score 
of  benevolent  societies,  lodges,  and  labor  unions,  all  of  which 
dispense  some  chanty,  besides  numerous  benevolent  individuals 
who  do  so.  In  a  given  family  one  child  may  attend  one 


CHARITY  ORGANIZATION  195 

Sunday-school  and  receive  aid  from  one  church,  while  another 
does  the  same  at  another  church,  and  father  and  mother  may 
secure  aid  from  several  societies  and  individuals.  If  a  re- 
porter makes  a  "story"  about  some  needy  family  at  Thanks- 
giving time,  it  may  have  ten  turkeys  and  have  no  coal  to 
cook  them,  while  equally  needy  families  receive  nothing.  In  a 
community  so  small  that  overlapping  of  charity  seemed  not 
only  needless  but  to  sojne  almost  incredible,  a  lady  found  a 
family  in' need  and  appealed  for  aid  to  three  benevolent  individ- 
'uals  in  succession,  each  of  whom  declined  on  the  ground  of 
doing  already  what  he  or  she  could  for  another  case ;  it  turned 
out  that  each  of  the  three  was  "doing"  for  one  and  the  same 
case  which,  moreover,  had  ceased  to  require  aid.  In  a  great 
city  with  hundreds  of  charities  and  a  great  number  of  benevo- 
lent individuals,  the  charity  "rounder"  finds  easy  prey,  unless 
there  7s  a  central  organization. 

One  duty  of  the  charity  organization  society  is  to  keep 
a  central  record  of  all  applications  for  charity  to  any  of  the 
cooperating  agencies,  showing  the  nature  of  the  need  and  the 
treatment  provided.  If  all  the  charities  of  the  city  report  to 
the  central  agency  each  application  they  can  always  learn 
whether  the  applicant  is  already  receiving  assistance  from 
another  source. 

The  charity  organization  society  is  one  agency  for  han- 
dling the  tramp  problem,  a  problem  which  results  from  the 
overlapping  of  charity  given  by  many  to  one  man  until  he 
becomes  a  charity  rounder.  The  treatment  of  vagrants  which 
was  recommended  in  a  preceding  paragraph  requires  the  exist- 
ence of  an  agency  to  which  beggars  can  be  referred  by  every 
citizen  with  the  assurance  that  each  will  receive  the  treatment 
appropriate  to  his  case;  and  with  the  added  insurance  that 
by  such  cooperation  between  all  householders  and  one  central 
agency,  no  parasites  are  begging  from  door  to  door.  The 
proper  treatment  of  these  wanderers  of  ten*  requires  communi- 
cation, perhaps  by  telephone,  with  the  cities  from  which  they 
profess  to  come,  or  to  which  they  say  they  wish  to  go.  To 
some  of  these  men  it  is  possible  to  give  important  help  and 
to  these  it  would  have  been  a  shame  to  give  merely  a  "hand- 


196  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

out"  at  the  door.  But  it  is  ordinarily  quite  impossible  for 
the  householder  to  distinguish  these  cases  from  the  smooth 
impostors.  To  deal  properly  with  the  tramps  requires  pains- 
taking and  trained  intelligence.  The  principles  already  set 
down  with  reference  to  moral  delinquents  must  not  be  for- 
gotten. Labor  must  be  offered  them. 

Practically  every  community  is  visited  from  time  to  time 
by  solicitors  purporting  to  represent  out-of-town  benevolent 
enterprises.  Some  of  them  are  frauds.  The  genuine  should 
receive  the  indorsement  they  deserve,  and  the  frauds  would 
be  suppressed,  if  all  such .  solicitors  were  required  by  those 
to  whom  they  appeal  to  present  a  recommendation  from  the 
local  charity  organization  society. 

Even  within  the  city  itself,  if  it  be  a  large  one,  unwise 
and  sometimes  fraudulent  so-called  charities  may  be  started, 
and  all  new  charitable  enterprises  may  reasonably  be  expected 
to  secure  approval  of  the  Charity  Organization  Society  before 
appealing  to  the  generosity  of  the  public  for  .funds. 

2.  Properly  Conducted  Investigation. — The  investigation 
of  applications  alone  can  prevent  imposture.    But  the  main  ob- 
ject of  investigation  is  not  to  prevent  imposture  but  to  discover 
the  real  needs   and  opportunities   for  help.     Thorough   ac- 
quaintance with  the  case  is  the  prime  condition  of  wise  and 
thoroughly  helpful  treatment.     For  the  private  individual  to 
investigate  cases  of  poverty  is  usually  impossible;  it  requires 
time  as  well  as  experience  and  training.    It  is  a  waste  and  a 
mischief  when  investigation  of  the  same  cases  is  needlessly 
repeated  by  several  charitable  agencies  to  which  appeal  is  made. 
Every  society  and  every  individual  that  discovers  a  case  of 
need  in  the  community  can  report  it  to  the  Charity  Organiza- 
tion Society  with  the  assurance  that  it  will  be  properly  looked 
into,  and  the  conditions  and  the  needs  of  the  case  will  be  made 
known  to  the  agencies  that  should  assist  in  its  relief;  and 
that   if   the    case   has    already   been    investigated    that    fact 
will   be   known   and   no   repetitious   investigations  will  take 
place. 

3.  Communication  Between  Need  and  Source  of  Supply. — 
The  Qiarities  Directory  of  the  City  of  New  York  is  a  volume 


CHARITY  ORGANIZATION  197 

of  835  pages,  that  of  Chicago  of  350  pages,  and  that  of  Boston, 
of  500  pages,  describing  1,424  charitable  agencies. 

In  a  large  city  there  are  charitable  agencies  designed  to 
meet  practically  every  form  of  want,  and  devoted  to  the^ 
service  of  the  needy  of  particular  nationalities,  and  of  particu- 
lar creeds.  Yet  individuals  may  starve,  not  knowing  where  to 
turn.  It  is  impossible  for  the  needy  to  b.e  conversant  with 
all  the  sources  of  beneficence,  but  there  should  be  one  thor- 
oughly advertised  charity,  whose  business  it  is  to  put  each 
applicant  in  touch  with  the  resources  of  the  city  which  should 
be  called  upon  to  meet  his  needs.  This  is  a  function  of  a 
charity  organization  society.  That  society  is  to  all  the  agen- 
cies of  the  community  that  deal  with  the  needy  what  "Central" 
is  to  a  telephone  system.  To  care  properly  for  a  single  needy 
family,  it  may  be  necessary  to  invoke  many  different  agencies, 
for  example,  to  call  upon  the  police  and  the  court  to  put  a 
shirking  breadwinner  on  parole,  under  sentence,  suspended  so 
long  as  he  works  and  brings  in  his  wages ;  and  to  call  upon 
the  dispensary  and  the  visiting  nurses'  association  to  cure  ill- 
ness that  drains  the  family  resources,  or  disables  a  wage- 
earner;  to  look  up  the  building  inspector  and  the  landlord  in 
order  to  remove  the  unsanitary  conditions  that  undermine  the 
health  of  the  family,  and  the  society  for  rendering  legal  aid 
to  the  poor1  in  order  to  secure  back  wages  due,  or  to  relax 
the  grip  of  a  loan  shark;  to  find  a  job  for  the  father,  or  for 
son  or  daughter  (for  the  charity  organization  society  must 
be  in  touch  with  sources  of  employment  throughout  the  city)  ; 
and  to  furnish  temporary  relief  in  the  form  of  coal  and 
groceries.  In  the  small  town  there  may  be  a  score,  and  in 
the  great  city,  hundreds  of  agencies  which  may  thus  multiply 
their  efficiency  by  cooperation  through  the  central  organi- 
zation. 

4.  To  Restore  the  Impoverished  to  Economic  Independ- 
ence.— It  is  an  error  to  imagine  that  the  charity  organization 
society  exists  chiefly  to  defend  the  weak  against  the  easy 

1  The  public  ought  to  maintain  free  courts,  without  privately  re- 
tained lawyers,  for  adjudicating  small  claims.  The  expense  of  litiga- 
tion places  the  justice  of  the  courts  beyond  the  reach  of  the  poor. 


198  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

pauperism  and  parasitism  into  which  many  sink  as  a  result  of 
a  promiscuous  almsgiving,  and  to  protect  society  against  an 
army  of  demoralized  beggars.  These  things  the  charity  or- 
ganization society  does,  but  its  yet  more  distinctive  aim  is  to 
furnish  to  the  poor  the  patient,  skillful,  and  adequate  aid  that 
will  set  them  once  more  upon  tlieir  feet.  Mere  almsgiving  will 
seldom  do  that ;  it  will  render  the  poor  more  comfortable  in 
their  poverty,  but  the  charity  organization  society  aims  to  help 
them  out  of  their  poverty.  For  a  man  in  real  trouble  the  dole 
at  the  door  for  which  he  asks  is  a  pitiful  substitute  for  the 
befriending  that  he  needs.  For  this  fourth  aim,  the  true  aim 
of  charity,  the  gift  of  coal  and  groceries  in  the  case  just  sup- 
posed, would  have  been  totally  insufficient;  it  would  have 
served  only  to  help  "tide  the  family  over  into  next  week's 
misery."  The  economically  broken  individual  or  family  may 
need  alms,  but  the  chief  need  is  "not  alms  but  a  friend."  It 
must  be  a  friend  who  has  knowledge  of  opportunities  for 
employment  and  of  all  the  resources  of  the  city  that  may  be 
called  upon  to  minister  to  the  various  specific  necessities  of  the 
unfortunate.  It  must  be  a  friend  who  by  special  training  and 
by  observation  of  many  rescues  from  engulfing  poverty  knows 
how  to  solve  the  problem  of  regaining  economic  independence, 
a  problem  often  baffling  for  ordinary  ingenuity  and  knowl- 
edge. It  must  be  a  friend  who  can  give  the  time  for  corre- 
spondence and  for  interviews  with  various  parties.  All  this 
means,  as  a  rule,  that  it  must  be  the  paid,  trained  agent  of 
the  charity  organization  society.  To  restore  people  to  eco- 
nomic health  requires  special  training  and  clinical  observation. 
Though  the  training1  required  may  be  less  expensive,  it  is  as 
truly  necessary  as  the  training  which  is  required  to  restore 
people  to  physical  health.  To  provide  such  a  wise  and  skill- 
ful friend  to  the  poor  in  a  community  is  the  greatest  charity. 
Some  charity  organization  societies  give  no  material  relief, 
but  for  that  rely  entirely  upon  cooperating  agencies  and  devote 
all  their  time  and  funds  to  personal  work  among  the  poor  and 
to  the  function  of  an  investigating,  recording,  and  communicat- 
ing agency  for  all  the  organizations  and  individuals  in  the 
city  that  do  give  material  aid. 


CHARITY  ORGANIZATION  199 

It  must  be  admitted  that  with  the  best  of  training  and  of 
cooperation  the  task  of  "family  rehabilitation"  is  a  discourag- 
ing one.  Prevention  is  more  promising  than  cure.  Yet  by 
such  measures  as  restoring  health  of  breadwinners  who  would 
otherwise  sink  into  chronic  incapacity,  finding  suitable  employ- 
ment for  those  with  unsuitable  employment  or  none,  forcing 
deserting  breadwinners  to  do  their  duty,  rinding  relatives  and 
reestablishing  family  cooperation,  cures  are  wrought.  And 
when  cure  is  out  of  the  question  it  is  by  no  means  an  insig- 
nificant service  to  supply  the  palliatives  of  "relief"  in  a  way 
to  do  the  most  good  and  with  the  least  of  waste  and  harm. 

Examples. — An  illustration  or  two  will  render  more  distinct 
some  of  the  four  points  just  made.  The  accumulated  case 
records  of  a  charity  organization  society  are  a  mass  of  such 
illustrations.  Let  us  choose  instances  in  which  we  can  con- 
trast skillful  and  unskillful  procedure. 

By  an  accident  a  man  was  rendered  unfit  for  his  accustomed 
labor.  He  had  a  wife  and  three  children.  Many  gave  sym- 
pathy but  all  intrusted  the  giving  of  material  aid  to  the  charity 
organization  society.  The  society  loaned  the  man  the  price  of 
a  pushcart  and  stock  for  peddling.  The  family  did  not  be- 
come paupers,  but  lived  in  thrift  and  comfort.  The  children 
were  reputed  to  promise  becoming  good  citizens.  Another 
man  in  a  city  with  no  charity  organization  society  was  simi- 
larly injured.  At  first  many  sympathetic  persons  contributed 
money,  food,  and  clothing  which  were  soon  used  up.  The  man 
could  not  return  to  his  labor  and  the  wife  was, not  able  to  do 
washing  regularly.  Their  needs  continued  to  be  more  or  less 
spasmodically  contributed  to  by  money,  food,  old  clothes,  and 
fuel.  Husband  and  wife  became  confirmed  paupers.  The 
children  have  suffered  in  their  self-respect  and  when  thrown 
upon  their  own  resources  are  likely  at  the  first  touch  of  hard- 
ship to  become  charges  upon  the  community.  The  experience 
of  this  family  has  been  repeated  with  variations  in  thousands 
of  instances. 

A  man  of  good  connection  in  England  was  sent  to  this 
country  on  an  allowance  because  of  his  gross  intemperance. 
He  always  claimed  that  his  allowance  was  behind  time  and 


200  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

that  he  was  without  money.  People  gave  him  fifty  cents  or 
five  dollars  or  nothing.  What  he  obtained  in  this  way  went 
mostly  for  drink  and  dragged  him  further  into  the  mire.  At 
length  a  charity  organization  society  was  formed  in  the  city. 
The  secretary  of  the  new  society  communicated  with  his  rela- 
tives and  found  that  the  allowance  always  came  on  time  and 
that  he  squandered  it  in  drink.  It  was  arranged  with  the 
relatives  to  have  the  allowance  sent  to  the  society  and  to  have 
the  society  pay  his  board  in  an  institution  for  inebriates  where 
he  received  both  physical  and  moral  treatment.  He  is  now 
working  steadily  in  a  position  which  the  charity  organization 
society  secured  for  him. 

The  breadwinner  of  a  small  family  fell  ill.  The  family  was 
supported  by  charity  for  a  series  of  years.  Meanwhile  the  in- 
valid's suffering  was  relieved  by  morphine,  and  she  became  a 
regular  "morphine  fiend,"  and  the  family  sunk  into  chronic 
pauperism.  A  trained  charity  worker  was  brought  to  the 
town.  She  immediately  found  that  the  breadwinner  might 
have  been  restored  to  her  work  by  a  slight  surgical  operation 
and  that  relatives  who  witnessed  the  pauperization  of  this  /fam- 
ily with  regret  and  shame  would  have  rendered  outside  charity 
unnecessary  if  they  had  been  appealed  to  and  the  pauperizing 
relief  had  been  withheld. 

Compare  the  money  cost  of  wise  charity  with  that  of  care- 
less giving.  The  charity  to  the  small  family  was  far  worse 
than  wasted.  In  the  case  of  the  drunken  Englishman,  a  few 
letters  and  a  few  calls  saved  him;  all  the  money  he  had  been 
collecting  before  was  ruining  him.  In  the  case  of  the  crippled 
laborer,  there  were  years  of  giving  to  him  and  his  wife  and 
children  and  the  likelihood  of  more  paupers  when  the  children 
grew  up ;  indeed  the  effects  of  pauperizing  a  family  may  last 
for  generations.  The  other  crippled  laborer  cost  only  a  little 
time  and  wise  planning;  and  he  and  his  family  were  saved 
to  themselves  and  society. 

Yet  organized  charity  is  by  no  means  a  device  primarily 
intended  for  saving*  money  for  the  community.  Though  in  the 
long  run,  it  does  have  that  result,  its  chief  aim  is  to  render  to 
the  needy  aid  which  is  adequate  and  so  intelligently  planned 


CHARITY  ORGANIZATION  201 

as  to  be  so  far  as  possible  curative  and  not  merely  palliative. 
In  some  cases  it  is  much  more  expensive  than  thoughtless 
charity ;  it  may  give  to  a  sick  mother,  milk,  eggs,  and  nursing 
instead  of  beans  and  cast-off  clothing.  It  may  give  medical 
treatment  and  surgical  appliances  to  &•  broken  breadwinner, 
when  they  alone  can  remove  the  cause  of  a  family's  distress 
and  poverty.  If  is  a  saving  in  so  far  as  it  is  curative  and  pre- 
ventive. It  does  away  with  the  rearing  of  children  to  lives  of 
pauperism.  It  builds  backbones  instead  of  dissolving  them. 
It  is  far  more  welcome  to  the  better  class  of  the  poor  than  the 
unintelligent  charity  that  often  thinks  itself  more  sympathetic, 
because  it  respects  the  self-respect  of  those  it  aids  as  well  as 
because  it  offers  adequate  and  curative  aid,  instead  of  the 
mere  succession  of  tantalizing  doles  soon  consumed. 

The  appeal  of  the  needy  to  human  sympathy  secures  the 
entrance  into  this  service  of  people  whose  gifts  of  head  and 
heart  could  not  be  commanded  by  the  salaries  which  they 
receive.  It  is  better  that  the  salaries  be  low  than  that  anyone 
engage  in  this  work  for  mere  money's  sake.  Low  as  they  are, 
the  maintenance  of  the  workers  adapted  in  character  and 
training  to  this  difficult  task  is  the  chief  expense  of  the  charity 
organization  society,  but  it  is  indispensable  and  its  chief  means 
of  usefulness.  Scientific  charity  discovers  a  practical  inter- 
pretation of  the  line,  "The  gift  without  the  giver  is  bare." 
The  charity  worker  may  well  cost  more  than  the  relief,  some- 
what as  the  doctor  costs  more  than  the  medicine.  Alms  are 
like  a  sedative  that  relieves  painful  symptoms;  the  charity 
worker  is  like  the  physician  or  the  trained  nurse.  Where  every 
sympathetic  person  administered  the  sedative  but  there  was 
no  doctor  or  nurse,  disease  would  abound  and  increase ;  so 
poverty  and  pauperism  abound  and  increase  in  absence  of  the 
time-consuming  labor  of  the  trained  minister  ^f  charity. 

5.  An  Agency  of  Research  and  Public  Instruction. — The 
fifth  purpose  served  by  the  charity  organization  society  is  that 
of  an  agency  of  .research  and  of  public  instruction.  Through 
its  reports  and  the  addresses  and  conversations  of  its  offi- 
cials and  frequent  newspaper  paragraphs,  it  renders  the  good 
will  of  the  community  intelligent,  directs  it  away  from  the 


202  '.  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

well-meant  blundering  that  in  most 'places  has  become  common, 
and  toward  effective  and  general  cooperation  in  the  methods 
which  wide  and  long  experience  has  shown  to  contribute  most 
toward  promoting  the  welfare  of  the  poor.  This  public  dis- 
cussion not  only  guides  but  also  arouses  and  increases  the 
sympathy  of  the  community  for  its  poor. 

Moreover,  in  addition  to  their  paid  workers  most  charity 
organization  societies  have  a  corps  of  volunteer  "friendly 
visitors,"  each  of  whom  agrees  to  become  acquainted  with 
from  one  to  three  poor  families.  These  visitors  may  aid  ma- 
terially in  the  rehabilitation  of  the  families  that  they  befriend. 
Usually  it  is  wise  for  them  to  agree  to  leave  all  giving  of 
material  aid  to  the  paid  superintendent.  The  societies  usually 
have  also  advisory  committees  in  addition  to  their  board  of 
directors,  with  whom  the  needs  and  proper  treatment  of  cases 
are  discussed.  All  this  serves  to  enable  the  well-to-do  to 
realize  the  problems  of  the  "submerged  tenth,"  and  promotes 
mutual  understanding  and  sympathy  between  classes  that  are 
too  often  and  too  easily  estranged. 

The  investigation  of  concrete  cases  of  distress  with  a  view 
to  discovering  and  removing  the  occasion  of  the  trouble  is  a 
continuous  research  into  the  causes  of  social  and  economic 
failures,  and  is  sure  to  yield  knowledge  of  great  value  for 
the  guidance  of  the  particular  community,  in  which  the  charity 
organization  society  exists,  in  its  efforts  toward  removing  its 
standing  evils  and  fulfilling  its  good  possibilities.  This  is  one 
of  the  most  important  functions  of  such  an  organization.  A 
community  like  an  individual  can  get  used  to  almost  anything. 
As  a  rule  the  comfortable  and  well-to-do  little  realize  the  causes 
of  evil  from  which  the  less  fortunate  fringe  of  the  population 
continually  suffer.  Generally  speaking,  no  theoretical  discus- 
sion or  agitation  by  eloquent  specialists  from  abroad  can  move 
a  community  so  powerfully  in  the  direction  of  needed  reform 
and  progress  as  the  definite  local  knowledge  yielded  by  the 
daily  investigations  of  the  charity  organization  society. 

The  charity  worker  needs  the  guidance  of  theoretical  in- 
struction in  order  to  perceive  the  significance  of  what  he  sees ; 
leaders  of  progress  need  wide  knowledge  of  the  experience  of 


CHARITY  ORGANIZATION 


203 


other  communities  in  righting  their  wrongs;  and  systematic 
investigation  of  whole  problems  must  supplement  the  frag- 
mentary clinical  experience  of  the  charity  worker.  Still  it 
remains  true  that  the  discoveries  of  such  workers  are,  as  a 
rule,  the  most  effective  means  which  a  community  possesses 
for  learning  its  urgent  needs  and  possibilities  and  arousing 
itself  to  the  required  action.  The  directors  of  the  charity 
organization  society  naturally  furnish  guidance  and  leadership 
for  constructive  social  work  in  various  lines.  They  may  not 
always  live  up  to  their  opportunity,  but  the  opportunity  is 
theirs. 

The  charity  organizations  of  the  whole  country  ought  to 
cooperate  in  keeping  a  uniform  record  of  certain  results  of 
their  investigations,  so  that  the  totals  of  this  information 
would  be  available. 

The  Almshouse. — The  almshouse  deserves  a  few  special 
comments  even  in  so  brief  a  treatment  of  the  subject  of 
charities  as  this.  Almshouses  are  well-nigh  everywhere  in  the 
United  States. 

Historically  the  almshouse  has  been  the  catch-all  for  nearly 
every  form  of  social  breakdown. 

It  often  contains  children;  it  never  should  retain  a  child 
as  an  inmate. 

It  often  contains  the  insane,  the  epileptic,  the  feeble- 
minded, the  blind,  the  deaf,  the  crippled,  and  the  incurable. 
As  a  rule  persons  belonging  to  any  of  these  classes  should 
be  removed  from  the  poorfarm  to  institutions  adapted  to 
their  peculiar  needs. 

It  often  admits  and  dismisses  inmates  practically  at  their 
option  on  the  theory  that  one  who  is  so  hard  up  as  to  desire 
admission  to  the  poorhouse  ought  to  be  received,  and  anyone 
who  is  willing  to  withdraw  from  being  a  charge  upon  the  town 
or  county  ought  not  to  be  retained.  Thus  the  bum  has  a 
winter  home,  which  he  may  enter  after  the  fall  work  of  the 
farm  is  over,  and  may  leave  before  the  spring  work  begins. 
The  debauchee  has  a  retreat  to  which  he  may  retire  to  recover 
from  the  effects  of  his  excesses  and  from  which  he  may  depart 
when  prompted  by  the  return  of  appetite.  Here  the  feeble- 


204  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

minded  woman  may  bear  her  almost  annual  progeny  of  inca- 
pables,  leaving  at  will  to  mingle  in  society.  Sometimes  even 
within  the  institution  there  is  no  adequate  separation  of  the 
sexes. 

It  was  formerly  common  and  is  sometimes  the  case  still, 
that  the  superintendent  of  the  poorfarm  receives  as  his  only 
pay  that  which  he  can  save  from  the  proceeds  of  the  farm  and 
from  an  allowance,  which  is  the  lowest  any  bidder  will  accept, 
and  is  either  a  lump  sum  or  a  specific  sum  for  each  inmate. 
Whatever  balance  he  can  save  from  these  resources  after 
feeding  the  inmates,  remains  in  his  own  pocket,  so  that  every 
cent  of  expenditure  that  he  can  withhold  from  the  inmates 
and  every  item  of  milk,  butter,  eggs,  vegetables,  and  other 
produce  that  he  can  sell  instead  of  feeding  it  to  the  inmates, 
increases  his  profits.  This  abominable  system  invites  abuses. 
The  proper  rule  is  for  the  superintendent  to  receive  a  fixed 
salary  and  an  appropriation  for  expenses  and  to  be  required 
to  render  an  account  of  everything  sold  from  the  farm. 

It  is  seldom  that  a  poorfarm  has  a  trained  nurse  or  other 
adequate  provision  for  caring  for  its  sick  folk.  Often  the  care 
of  the  sick  is  intrusted  to  inmates  and  is  not  only  ignorant 
but  careless  and  even  cruel,  being  forced  upon  the  reluc- 
tant inmate  who  hates  to  have  his  idleness  disturbed  by  a 
duty. 

In  many  cases  the  opprobrious  names  "poorfarm"  and 
"almshouse"  are  replaced  by  the  word  "infirmary"  and  the 
name  "county  home"  is  now  preferred. 

In  the  larger  counties  there  should  somewhere  be  decent 
hospital  facilities  for  the  poor,  acceptable  to  the  medical  pro- 
fession and  pervaded  by  no  sense  of  disgrace  on  the  part  of 
patients.  In  the  poorhouse  there  might  be  a  sitting-room  and 
sleeping  quarters  to  which  those  only  were  admitted  who  met 
certain  requirements.  The  mingling  of  worn-out  mothers  or 
of  laborers,  broken  down  by  old  age  an'd  long  years  of  honest 
toil,  with  repulsive  idiots  and  the  diseased  wrecks  of  de- 
bauchery is  often  carried  to  perilous  and  cruel  lengths. 

In  the  case  of  every  institution  for  the  care  of  the  unfor- 
tunate definite  provision  should  be  made  for  visitation  by 


CHARITY  ORGANIZATION 


20,5 


chosen  representatives  of  the  public.     Inspectors  of  an  alms- 
house,  whether  voluntary  or  official,  may  properly  inquire : 


As  to  the  inmates 

1.  Total  number 

2.  Number  of  each  sex 

3.  Numbers  by  races 

4.  Numbers  by  age  groups 

5.  Able-bodied 

6.  Feeble7minded 

J.  Insane       (Cells?         Re- 
straint?) 

8.  Epileptics 

9.  Blind  (Educable  age?) 

10.  Deaf 

11.  Paralytic 

12.  Other  diseases 


As  to  management  and  plant 
B 

1.  What  classification  of  in- 

mates with  respect  to 
apartments  or  treat- 
ment ?  On  what  basis  ? 
Sex,  morals,  health, 
race? 

2.  Financial  system 

3.  Work  by  inmates 

4<  Reading,    recreation    and 
religious  privileges 

5.  Manner  of  admission  and 

discharge 

6.  Character  of  building 

7.  Amount  and  value  of  land 

8.  Character  of  farming 

9.  Cleanliness  and  sanitation 

10.  Nursing  and  care  of  the 

sick 

11.  Provisions  for  visitation 


Government  Supervision. — We  have  already  observed  the 
necessity  of  intelligent  and  authoritative  inspection  of  public 
charitable  institutions.  Private  institutions  which  appeal  to 
society  for  funds,  or  which  assume  responsibility  for  the 
lives  of  inmates,  ought  to  be  subject  to  similar  inspection. 
The  best  device  for  state  supervision  is  a  commission,  com- 
posed of  responsible  persons  of  special  acquaintance  with 
the  problems  of  charity,  appointed  by  the  governor,  to  serve 
without  pay,  but  provided  with  a  fund  sufficient  to  enable 
the  commission  to  employ  a  permanent,  highly  trailed  execu- 
tive secretary,  and  the  necessary  inspectors,  and  to  publish 
adequate  reports.  The  commission  need  have  no  other  powers 
than  to  get  the  facts  and  place  them,  with  proper  recommenda- 


206  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

v 

tions,  before  the  public,  the  governor,  and  the  law-making 
bodies  of  the  state. 

A  separate,  salaried  board,  charged  with  the  centralized 
business  administration  of  all  the  asylums,  colonies,  and  other 
charities  supported  by  the  state  itself,  proves  a  means  of 
economy  and  efficiency. 

Both  the  supervising  commission  and  the  administrative 
board  should  have  powers  extending  equally  to  the  penal,  as 
well  as  the  charitable,  institutions  of  the  state. 

The  state  of  Indiana  has  led  the  way  in  a  set  of  wise  laws 
which  require  that  upon  petition  of  fifteen  reputable  citizens 
of  any  county  the  circuit  court  shall  appoint  six  persons  to 
act  as  a  county  board  of  charities.  This  board  is  required 
to  visit  all  charitable  and  correctional  institutions  receiving 
public  funds  within  the  county,  and  to  report  the  result  of 
their  inspection  quarterly  to  the  county  commissioners  and 
annually  to  the  court,  and  to  furnish  copies  of  their  report 
to  the  newspapers  and  to  the  state  board  of  charities.  Town- 
ship trustees  are  required  to  file  with  the  commissioners  of 
their  county,  and  with  the  state  board  of  charities,  state- 
ments giving  certain  definite  information  concerning  every 
family  receiving  aid  from  the  township.  Each  township  is 
required  to  provide  for  its  own  poor  by  a  special  tax.  In 
administering  public  charities  officials  are  required  to  observe 
the  cardinal  rules  which  have  been  proved  essential  by  the 
experience  of  private  charity  organization  societies.  This 
series  of  laws  has  resulted  in  a  reduction  of  the  proportion 
of  the  population  of  Indiana  receiving  public  aid  to  much  less 
than  half  what  it  was  in  1897,  before  the  first  of  these  laws 
was  passed,  in  reducing  the  annual  cost  of  public  relief  by 
more  than  $100,000,  and  in  affording  more  adequate  and  in- 
telligent assistance  to  the  poor. 

In  the  management  of  local  charities  the  example  of 
Kansas  City,  Missouri,  has  been  more  or  less  completely  fol- 
lowed by  Certain  other  cities,  and  may  profitably  be  studied 
by  many  more.  It  provides  that  the  mayor  shall  appoint 
three  persons  as  a  Board  of  Municipal  Welfare.  This  board 
selects  a  general  superintendent-  and  under  him  there  is  an 


CHARITY  ORGANIZATION  207 

extensive  staff  of  paid  workers.  The  board,  through  its  offi- 
cials, (i)  administers  the  public  charities  of  the  city,  closely 
cooperating  with  private  agencies,  and  itself  maintaining  ten 
trained  social  workers  for  the  service  of  investigating  and 
rehabilitating  families  that  have  applied  for  help  to  the  vari- 
ous private  charities  of  the  city,  and  operates  as  a  registra- 
tion bureau  and  clearing  house  of  information  between  all 
these  institutions.  (2)  It  maintains  a  free  legal  aid  bureau^ 
and  handles  6,000  to  7,000  cases  per  year,  at  a  cost  of  less 
than  one  dollar  per  case.  The  board  collects  $14,000  to 
$15,000  per  year  from  men  who  had  been  neglecting  their 
families.  (3)  It  operates  a  welfare  loan  agency;  (4)  a  de- 
partment of  factory  and  housing  inspection;  (5)  a  free  em- 
ployment bureau,  which  supplied  31,600  jobs  in  1914,  a  mu- 
nicipal quarry  employing  several  hundred  men  per  day,  paying 
them  in  meals  and  lodgings,  if  homeless,  in  grocery  orders 
if  they  have  families,  also  a  sewing  room  for  unemployed 
women.  (6)  The  board  administers  a  reformatory  for 
women,  and  a  penal  farm  for  the  male  prisoners  of  the  city. 
The  products  of  the  industries  of  these  institutions  cover 
most  of  the  costs  of  operation.  It  maintains  a  parole  de- 
partment, selects  those  who  should  be  paroled  from  these 
institutions,  and  gives  them  supervision.  Several  hundred 
people  are  always  on  parole.  (7)  It  exercises  thorough  super- 
vision over  public  dance  halls,  skating  rinks  and  moving  pic- 
ture shows.  (8)  It  maintains  a  research  department,  which 
studies  the  city  and  its  needs  and  possibilities  with  reference 
to  such  topics  as  unemployment,  wage-earning  women,  the 
social  evil,  industrial  accidents,  what  becomes  of  the  children 
who  leave  school  before  reaching  high  school,  etc. 

Conclusion. — In  conclusion,  with  reference  to  the  problem 
of  poverty,  there  are  four  aims  which  society  ought  to  seek. 

i.  A  situation  in  which  none  who  are  willing  and  com- 
petent to  do  work  productive  enough  to  yield  their  support 
shall  be  suffering  poverty.  Failure  to  attain  that  aim  is  due 
either  to  an  imperfect  organization  of  industry,  or  a  popula- 
tion so  excessive  as  to  overtax  the  resources  of  nature  and 
of  art 


208  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

2.  A   situation  in   which   all  those  who   can   do   useful 
work  but  will  not,  if  supported  by  relatives  or  by  inherited 
wealth,  forfeit  social  approval,  and  if  supported  by  the  public, 
are  subjected   to   sympathetic  but   firm   discipline,   and   pre- 
vented from  distributing  physical  and  moral  contagion. 

3.  A  situation  in  which  the  number  of  those  unable  to 
do  productive  work  or  useful  service  equal  in  value  to  their 
own  maintenance  will  be  reduced  to  the  minimum. 

4.  That  those  unable  to  care  for  themselves  be  cared  for 
with  tenderness. 

Finally  charity  for  the  most  part  is  only  a  palliative,  not 
a  cure.  Social  justice  and  individual  health  and  character 
constitute  the  foundation  which  must  be  laid  for  welfare — 
social  justice  which  is  yet  to  be  attained ;  health  which  re- 
quires a  birth  not  too  abnormal,  and  youth  spent  in  whole- 
some surroundings;  character  which  requires  a  childhood 
passed  under  the  influence  of  ideals  of  decency,  thrift,  and 
service,  and  of  a  tolerably  regular  discipline. 


III.    PSYCHOPHYSICAL   CAUSES    WHICH   AFFECT 
THE  LIFE  OF  SOCIETY 


CHAPTER   XIII 

THE  HEREDITARY  CHARACTERISTICS  OF  THE 
POPULATION 

The  word  "psychophysical"  in  this  heading  is  intended  to 
designate  traits  and  conditions  of  the  physical  organism,  in- 
cluding those  of  the  brain  and  nervous  system.  The  latter 
manifest  themselves  in  the  capacities  and  dispositions  for 
psychic  activity. 

Data  Which  Physiology  Furnishes  to  Sociology.1 — In  order 
to  understand  the  place  of  social  facts  in  the  ordered  unity  of 
nature  we  must  relate  them  not  only  to  geographic  but  also 
to  biological  phenomena.  Theoretical  sociology  must  have 
one  of  its  feet  planted  upon  the  facts  of  physical  anthropology. 

Since  biological  facts  are  less  familiar  than  those  of 
geography  it  may  be  necessary  to  insert  a  brief  description  of 
their  character. 

Complex  aggregations  of  matter  move  or  change  when  acted 
upon  by  other  moving  matter;  a  pile  of  jackstraws  stirs  and  shifts 
when  touched.  This  general  fact  of  the  instability  of  complex 
combinations  of  matter  may  be  called  "irritability."  Life  is  spe- 
cialized irritabilities.  The  molecule  of  protoplasm  is  an  extremely 
complex  and  unstable  compound  made  up  of  minute  parts.  It  is 
the  most  complex  and  unstable  of  all  molecules.  Moreover,  the 
arrangements  into  which  the  molecules  enter  are  highly  variable, 

1H.  S.  Jennings:  Behavior  of  Lower  Organisms.  Columbia  Uni- 
versity Press,  1906. 

Jacques  Loeb :  Comparative  Physiology  of  the.  Brain.  •  Putnam, 
1900,  chaps,  i  and  xii. 

Maurice  Parmelee :  Science  of  Human  Behavior.  Macmillan,  1913. 

209 


210  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

and  variations  in  their  arrangement  may  be  quite  as  significant  as 
changes  in  the  molecules  themselves.  The  external  cause  acting 
upon  a  complex  and  unstable  combination  of  matter  may  be  called 
the  "irritant"  or  "stimulus."  It  may  be  friction  moving  the 
minute  parts  or  molecules;  it  may  be  heat  setting  the  molecules 
into  vibration;  it  may  be  an  electric  shock;  it  may  be  light  with 
the  effects  of  which  on  unstable  compounds  we  are  familiar  in 
photography. 

Molecules  of  protoplasm  originally  form  in  water,  and  appar- 
ently these  molecules  aggregate  or  integrate  intp  masses  as  other 
molecules  of  a  given  kind  do  when  suspended  in  a  fluid.  Some 
molecules  when  thus  aggregated  in  a  fluid  medium  form  crystals. 
Protoplasm  aggregating  in  water  does  not  form  crystals  but  it 
may  be  that  it  tends  toward  a  more  or  less  symmetrical  arrange- 
ment. 

The  most  striking  characteristic  of  protoplasm  is  its  power  to 
contract  and  expand,  or  pucker  and  stretch.  When  a  simple  or- 
ganism consisting  of  a  single  protoplasmic  cell,  let  us  say  the 
ameba,  is  swimming  in  the  water,  if  a  drop  of  something  soluble 
falls  into  that  water,  particles  of  the  dissolving  substance  reach 
the  swimming  organism.  If  the  effect  is  to  pucker  the  side  of  the 
ameba  on  which  these  particles  strike;  then  the  ameba  turns 
toward  the  source  from  which  the  dissolving  particles  come  until 
they  strike  equally  on  both  sides  of  it.  Then  it  is  headed  straight 
for  the  source  of  the  stimulus.  Thus  if  a  drop  of  beef  juice  is 
dropped  into  water  where  the  amebae  are,  they  turn  toward  the 
beef  juice  and  congregate  about  it  as  if  eagerly  answering  the  call, 
to  dinner.  A  drop  of  acid  has  an  opposite  effect  and  they  flee 
from  it  as  if  scared. 

There  is  no  more  reason  to  suppose  that  the  ameba  is  con- 
scious of  what  it  is  doing  than  to  suppose  that  the  potato  sprout 
is  conscious  of  what  it  is  doing  when  it  crawls  along  the  cellar 
wall  toward  the  window,  the  source  of  light,  or  that  the  rootlets 
of  the  potato  are  conscious  of  what  they  are  doing  when  they 
turn  away  from  the  light,  or  that  the  vine  is  conscious  of  what 
it  is  doing  when  it  grows  more  rapidly  on  the  sunny  side  than 
on  the  side  that  is  shaded  and  so  coils  around  the  object  that 
shades  it  on  one  side. 

Only  those  combinations  of  protoplasm  can  survive  that  turn 
toward  what  is  good  for  th«m  and  away  from  what  would  destroy 
them.  When  you  jostle  the  jackstraws  they  may  fall  toward  the 


HEREDITARY  CHARACTERISTICS  211 

westj  but  next  time  you  throw  them  down  they  may  be  ready  to 
fall  toward  the  east.  Some  combinations  of  protoplasm  react  in 
one  way  and  other  combinations  of  protoplasm  react  in  exactly 
the  opposite  way  to  the  same  stimulus.  Only  those  aggregations 
of  protoplasm  survive  which  are  attracted  to  objects  some  part 
of  which  can  be  chemically  assimilated  to  and  integrated  with  the 
protoplasmic  molecules  and  structures  of  molecules  and  which  are 
repelled  from  or  repel  those  objects  that  would  disintegrate  and 
destroy  them.  The  behavior  of  irritable  matter  which  results  in 
doing  the  right  things  to  secure  preservation  of  that  particular 
aggregation  of  matter  and  others  like  it,  is  called  "functioning" 
and  the  aggregate  of  all  functioning  is  life.  When  we  speak  of 
life  as  irritability  we  refer  to  the  fact  that  a  living  thing  is  so 
complex  and  unstable  an  arrangement  of  matter  that  it  will  do 
more  than  dead  matter  when  acted  upon.  When  we  speak  of  life 
as  specialized  irritability  we  refer  to  the  fact  that  living  matter 
will  not  only  do  more  but  that  it  will  do  the  right  things  to  secure 
continuance  or  survival. 

Functioning  aggregations  or  matter  or  living  organisms  not 
only  behave  so  as  to  secure  their  own  survival  but  also  so  as  to 
give  rise  to  new  organisms  counterparts  of  themselves,  that  is,  to 
perpetuate  their  species  by  reproduction.  The  simplest  organisms 
reproduce  by  merely  breaking  in  two  when  they  get  too  big  for 
successful  functioning;  so  that  there  are  two  smaller  organisms 
where  there  had  been  one  larger  one.  Higher  organs  set  apart 
a  portion  of  their  cells  for  purposes  of  reproduction. 

No  man  can  completely  trace  out  the  physics  and  chemistry  of 
the  behavior  of  matter  in  its  most  complex  forms.  If  we  could 
we  should  know  the  method  of  growth,  functioning,  and  evolu- 
tion. We  can  trace  enough  of  this  intricate  and  microscopic 
chemistry  and  physics  to  be  sure  of  the  fact  of  growth,  function- 
ing, and  evolution,  but  we  have  as  yet  discovered  only  some  of 
the  main  features  of  the  method. 

The  combination  of  differentiated  cells  into  functioning  struc- 
tures in  the  higher  organisms  results  in  chemicophysical  mechan- 
isms which  surpass  in  intricacy  any  machines  that  have  been 
devised  by  man,  as  terrestrial  distances  are  exceeded  by  those  of 
astronomy. 

Relations  of  Biological  Traits  to  Social  Life. — Two  classes 
of  factors  furnish  the  preexisting  conditions  out  of  which 
society  arises:  a  group  of  biological  organisms  capable  of 


212  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

affecting  each  other's  activities ;  and  an  environing  habitat  in 
which  these  organisms  are  placed  and  by  which  their  activities 
are  both  stimulated  and  limited.  Given  a  number  of  psycho- 
physical  organisms  belonging  to  the  genus  Homo  set  down 
in  a  particular  situation,  forthwith  stimulated  by  their  environ- 
ment and  prompted  by  inborn  tendencies,  these  sensitive 
organisms  will  begin  to  function.  Presently  they  will  create 
technic  and  social  conditions  which  will  begin  to  affect  their 
further  activities,  but  the  only  preexisting  conditions  of  social 
activity  are  the  geographical  and  biological.  By  referring  to 
the  outline  of  the  theory  of  evolution  on  page  19,  one  will  be 
led  to  put  it  thus :  The  combination  of  conditions  necessary 
to  the  appearance  of  the  new  order  of  phenomena  which 
we  term  "social"  included  the  geographic  phenomena  plus 
the  congregated  organisms  of  a  species  adequately  evolved. 
Given  these  conditions,  social  phenomena  necessarily  fol- 
low. 

The  effects  of  geographic  habitats  in  conditioning  social 
realities  we  have  discussed  in  a  preceding  chapter  and  now 
we  are  ready  to  consider  the  part  played  by  the  qualities  of 
biological  organisms.  Important  as  are  the  social  effects. of 
geographic  conditions,  the  organic  traits  of  the  population  are 
the  higher  and  more  specialized  set  of  determining  condi- 
tions. 

Two  Classes  of  Socially  Important  Psychophysical  Condi- 
tions.— The  biological  traits  of  a  population  are  of  two  sorts : 
hereditary  and  acquired.  Even  the  lowest  human  beings  of 
whom  we  have  any  knowledge  are  distinguished  by  acquired 
as  well  as  by  inborn  physical  traits. 

Hereditary  psychophysical  traits  are  those  which  are  sup- 
posed to  be  due  to  the  character  of  the  germ  cells  derived 
from  parent  organisms  and  which  are  not  due  to  postnatal 
functioning  or  environment  or  even  to  any  prenatal  malnutri- 
tion, poisoning,  or  contagion  which  has  taken  place  subse- 
quent to  the  union  of  the  two  parent  cells.  Prenatal  contagion 
may  transmit  diseases  with  which  the  mother  was  affected, 
but  no  germ  disease  is  hereditary  in  the  strict  sense.  And 
extreme  malnutrition  of  the  mother  during  pregnancy  can  limit 


HEREDITARY  CHARACTERISTICS  213 

the  development  of  the  offspring  and  prevent  the  proper 
development  of  some  of  the  organs.  None  of  the  defects 
so  caused  are  hereditary  in  the  strictest  sense,  for  they  are 
not  due  to  inherent  imperfections  of  the  germ  cells  of  the 
parent  stock,  but  rather  to  injuries  to  the  developing  fetus. 

Hereditary  traits  that  affect  social  life  include:  (i)  exter- 
nal characteristics  such  as  height,  weight  and  figure,  com- 
plexion, character  of  hair,  color  of  eyes,  cast  of  features  and 
muscular  development;  (2)  predispositions;  (3)  general 
neural  traits,  that  is,  inborn  powers  and  limitations  of  those 
talents  which  may  function  in  the  service  of  more  than  one 
predisposition ;  (4)  temperament,  a  word  to  which  I  shall 
assign  a  somewhat  peculiar  meaning,  namely,  those  traits  of 
circulatory,  secretive  and  other  non-neural  organs  which  have 
a  recognizable  effect  upon  the  conscious  activities;  (5)  race, 
a  bundle  of  traits  of  all  of  those  sorts  just  mentioned  sup- 
posed to  distinguish  one  of  the  varieties  of  the  human  species ; 
(6)  age;  (7)  sex;  (8)  hereditary  abnormalities  and  subnor- 
malities. 

Under  acquired  biological  conditions  having  important 
social  consequences  must  be  noted:  (i)  stunted  youth;  (2) 
alcoholism  and  other  drug  habits;  (3)  occupational  diseases; 
(4)  contagious  diseases,  of  which  tuberculosis  and  venereal 
diseases  are  the  most  important;  (5)  "second  nature,"  habits, 
and  subconscious  set. 

The  external  characteristics,  although  they  form  so  large 
a  part  of  the  description  given  by  the  physical  anthropologist, 
we  must  pass  over  with  mere  mention. 

Instinct. — "An  instinct  is  an  inherited  or  an  innate  psycho- 
physical  disposition  which  determines  its  possessor  to  per- 
ceive and  pay  attention  to  objects  of  a  certain  class,  to  ex- 
perience an  emotional  excitement  of  a  peculiar  quality  upon 
perceiving  such  an  object,  and  to  act  in  regard  to  it  in  a 
particular  manner,  or  at  least,  to  experience  an  impulse  to 
such  action." x  This  special  response  is  an  important  part 

1  McDougal :  Social  Psychology.  Luce  &  Co.,  1909,  pp.  19  seq. 
He  recognizes  that  the  "relatively  unchanging  tendencies  which  form 
the  basis  of  human  character"  include  not  only  "specific  tendencies 


214  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

of  the  functioning  upon  which  the  survival  of  the  individual 
and  of  the  species  depends,  although,  even  in  man,  and  still 
more  in  the  animals,  there  may  be  no  foreknowledge  of  the 
purpose  which  the  instinctive  act  is  to  serve.  The  instinctive 
response  is  due  to  the  possession  of  a  special  neuromuscular 
apparatus  which  is  an  hereditary  characteristic  of  the  entire 
species  to  which  the  individual  belongs.  Instinctive  action 
is  a  special  response  to  a  special  stimulus  by  a  special  heredi- 
tary apparatus  for  a  special  biological  purpose.  Thus  each 
insect  is  prompted  to  lay  its  eggs  only  where  its  larvae  can 
find  food.  The  yucca  moth  is  provided  with  a  needle-pointed 
tube  with  which  to  deposit  her  eggs  in  the  seed  pod  of  the 
yucca  flower,  and  with  nerves  that  make  her  place  them  there 
and  that  make  her  stuff  the  hole  with  pollen.  Unless  she 
put  the  pollen  there  the  seeds  which  are  to  supply  her  young 
with  fodd  would  not  mature.  She  cannot  know  this  any 
more  than  the  mating  animal  foresees  that  its  instinctive  act 
will  result  in  progeny.  The  turtle  when  attacked  withdraws 
its  head  and  legs  into  the  shell,  and  the  nervous  coordination 
that  causes  him  to  do  so  is  one  part  of  a  mechanism  of  which 
the  muscles  that  pull,  and  the  shell  into  which  he  is  pulled, 
are  the  other  parts.  Either  part  without  the  others  would 
be  useless  and  each  is  as  purely  a  prearranged  biological 
adaptation  to  survival  as  is  the  other.  Indeed  the  nervous 

or  instincts"  but  also  "general  or  non-specific  tendencies."  As  the 
principal  human  instincts  he  enumerates:  (Intro,  p.  xii) 

The  instinct  of  flight  and  the  emotion  of  fear; 

The  instinct  of  repulsion  and  the  emotion  of  disgust; 

The  instinct  of  curiosity  and  the  emotion  of  wonder; 

The  instinct  of  pugnacity  and  the  emotion  of  anger; 

The  instinct  of  self-abasement  and  the  emotion  of  subjection; 

The  instinct  of  self-assertion  and  the  emotion  of   elation; 

The  parental  instinct  and  the  tender  emotion; 

The  instinct  of  reproduction; 

The  gregarious  instinct;     •& tjJlJM***^**    ^ 

•  u  X 

The  instinct  of  acquisition; 

The  instinct  of  construction. 

For  another  discussion  of  instinct,  see  Parmelee :  Science  of  Human 
Behavior,  chap,  xi,  Definition  on  page  26.  Also  Graham  Wallas, 
The  Great  Society.  Macmillan,  1914,  chap.  in.f  «"•  /yrt^rfT*  Jj2*~+A*Jt 

* 


»<U,  SL 


HEREDITARY  CHARACTERISTICS  215 

apparatus  that  prompts  the  conduct  of  the  yucca  moth  or 
that  secures  the  withdrawal  of  the  turtle's  head  and  legs  is 
as  purely  a  biological  adjustment  to  survival  as  is  the  nervous 
apparatus  that  secures  the  secretion  of  gastric  juice  upon 
stimulation  of  the  swallowed  food. 

The  word  reflex  is  used  to  describe  simpler  acts  that  serve' 
the  purposes  of  survival  and  are  the  functions  of  a  less  com- 
plex inherited  neuromuscular  coordination.  Familiar  exam- 
ples are  winking  the  eye  to  shut  out  an  injurious  body  or 
putting  forth  the  hands  as  one  begins  to  fall.  Between  reflexes 
and  instincts  there  is  no  sharp  line  of  distinction  but  a  grada- 
tion in  degree  of  complexity.  A  reflex  is  a  functional  unit 
built  up  of  minute  tropismatic,  chemicophysical  changes  in 
nature  like  those  in  the  swimming  ameba  or  the  creeping 
potato  sprout.,  An  instinct  on  the  physical  side  is  a  bigger 
functional  unit,  built  up  of  the  same  kind  of  tropismatic  ele- 
ments. As  we  are  employing  the  words,  it  would  not  be  far 
wrong  to  say  that  those  tropismatic  elements  are  to  reactions 
as  reactions  are  to  instincts. 

Predisposition. — As  yet  there  is  no  complete  agreement  in 
the  enumeration  of  human  instincts.  The  instinctive  activities 
of  man  are  not  so  cut  and  dried,  so  simple  and  definitely 
predetermined  as  those  of  lower  animals.  In  fact  the  dif- 
ference is  so  great  that  formerly  writers  anxious  to  exalt  man 
above  the  rest  of  animal  creation  were  accustomed  to  say 
that  man  had  few  instincts  or  even  that  he  had  none,  and  that 
while  animals  acted  by  instinct  man  acted  by  reason.  There 
are  three  reasons  why  the  instincts  of  man  are  vague  and 
not  easy  to  identify. 

i.  Upon  the  warp  of  instincts  man  weaves  a  woof  of 
habits.  Habits  gradually  come  to  resemble  instincts  in  almost 
everything  save  that  they  are  acquired  and  never  inborn, 
and  that  they  are  by  no  means  certain  to  serve  the  purposes 
of  survival.  Thus  we  say  that  to  certain  individuals  certain 
conduct  has 'become  instinctive.  But  this  is  a  figurative  ex- 
pression, for  in  literal  accuracy  only  that  can  be  instinctive 
which  is  so  by  virtue  of  an  inborn  adaptation  common  to  all 
«5ur  race.  Habits  result  from  the  organic  modifications  in 


2i6  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

our  structure  which  are  due  to  our  own  individual  activities. 
Habits  belong  to  the  individual,  instincts  to  the  species.  But 
habits  mingle  with  and  modify,  our  instincts.  The  great  extent 
to  which  habit  can  go  in  overlaying  and  obscuring  instinc^ 
results  largely  from  the  fact  that  man  is  born  so  immature, 
and  requires  years  of  adolescence  before  reaching  the  maturity 
of  his  organism.  This  is  necessary  to  allow  for  adaptation 
to  his  social  environment;  to  the  special  forms  of  activity 
prevalent  in  the  particular  society  into  which  he  is  born  and 
to  which  he  must  become  adjusted.  This  high  degree  of 
flexibility  and  adaptability  is  evidence  of  his  high  organiza- 
tion. In  general  the  higher  an  organism  in  the  biological  scale 
the  more  immature  and  plastic  it  is  at  birth.  Low  organisms 
have  a  nervous  system  that  is  comparatively  fixed  and  finished 
as  soon  as  hatched  or  born.  The  chicken  just  out  of  the  shell 
is  a  "going  concern"  and  commences  at  once  "to  scratch  for  a 
living."  Not  so  the  baby.  Still  lower  organisms  like  the 
insects  are  yet  more  fixed  and  finished  at  the  start.  They 
do  amazing  things  but  they  can  adapt  themselves  to  special 
situations  by  special  training  only  in  a  very  limited  degree. 
What  they  do  they  do  almost  as  automatically  as  a  trap  springs 
or  as  a  potato  sprout  in  a  dark  cellar  crawls  toward  the  win- 
dow, or  as  the  "touch-me-not"  sows  its  seeds.  Upon  presenta- 
tion of  the  proper  stimulus  they  function  as  they  are  by 
heredity  adapted  to  do,  and  so  they  live  their  simple  life,  but 
they  can  adapt  themselves  but  little  to  change  and  therefore 
they  are  incapable  of  social  progress.  And  out  of  their 
numerous  and  often  myriad  offspring  relatively  few  survive 
to  maturity. 

2.  In  man  the  instincts  "contaminate"  each  other  more 
than  is  the   case  with  animals ;   that   is,   several   instinctive 
promptings  may  simultaneously  inhibit  or  modify  the  conduct 
that  any  one  of  them  alone  would  have  produced. 

3.  Man  is  possessed  of  a  rich  variety  of  free  powers. 
The  hand  is  not  restricted  to  a  single  instinctive  act,1  like  the 
ovipositor  of   an   insect  nor   are  the   eyes   or   the   ears   the 

1  Of  course  the  difference  in  this  respect  between  man  and  other 
animals  is  not  absolute  but  only  relative. 


HEREDITARY  CHARACTERISTICS 


217 


servant  of  any  single  instinct,  nor,  above  all,*is  the  complex 
apparatus  of  the  brain.  These  free  powers  are  like  the  serv- 
ants in  a  hotel  who  do  not  obey  one  master  alone,  but  re- 
sptfnd  to  the  call  of  any  guest.  By  calling  into  its  service 
these  free  powers  a  human  instinct  secures  a  rich  variety  of 
expression  which  enables  it  to  appear  in  many  roles  and 
under  various  disguises.  An  angry  cat  will  practically  always 
start  the  bristle-spit-scratch-bite  response.  An  angry  man  will 
not  always  smite ;  he  can  think  of  a  great  many  other  hateful 
things  to  do.  Moreover,  his  wrath  may  be  aroused  by  a 
greater  variety  of  object's  than  arouse  anger  or  any  other 
instinct  in  a  cat.  And  similarly  his  other  instincts  secure  a 
wide  extension  of  their  eliciting  causes,  and  of  the  flexibility 
and  resourcefulness  of  their  adapted  response. 

All  these  things  being  so,  it  seems  best  for  the  sociologist 
to  leave  to  the  physiological  psychologists  the  unfinished  task 
of  identifying  instincts  and  to  adopt  the  word  predisposi- 
tion 1  as  a  name  for  those  inborn  tendencies  of  the  race  which 


1.  Tropism,  simple  chemico-physical  changes  like  those 
in  the  amoeba  or  the  potato  sprout,  and  their  com- 
binations in  the  functioning  of  higher  organisms. 

2.  Reaction. 

a  Congenitally  predetermined 
b  Called  into  action  by  specific  stimuli 
c  Issuing   in    specific   emotion   and    be- 
3.  Instinct   -j       havior  which 

d  Serve  a  purpose  not  necessarily  fore- 
seen, but  essential  to  survival  of  indi- 
vidual or  species. 


'Life 
Biologically  « 
Considered 


4.  Predispositions  of 
man  broader  and 
vaguer  than  in- 
stincts of  animals 
because 


a  Habits  mingle  more  largely  in 
shaping  the  behavior. 

b  Correlation  between  instincts 
or  "contamination"  of  instincts 
by  each  other  is  greater. 

c  The  free  apparatus  just  de- 
scribed vastly  diversifies  the 
occasions  and  the  responses  of 
instinctive  action. 


218  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

shape  the  course  of  social  action,  some  of  "which  can  be 
recognized  as  true  instincts,  some  of  which  certainly  are  not 
true  instincts,  and  concerning  some  of  which  he  need  not 
trouble  himself  to  inquire  whether  they  are  true  instincts 
or  not.  In  the  wording  of  our  list  of  predispositions  it  is 
not  necessary  to  distinguish  between  these  tendencies  as  they 
are  felt  by  the  subject  and  as  they  are  manifested  to  others 
in  overt  conduct,  but  only  to  name  and  describe  them  suffi- 
ciently so  that  they  may  be  clearly  identified  by  every  observer. 
These  propensities  are  characteristic  of  the  whole  human 
species  and  they  define  types  of  activity  with  which  mankind 
can  respond  to  the  stimulations  afforded  by  environment. 
Their  significance  is  so  tremendous  that  they  have  sometimes 
been  referred  to  as  the  social  forces.1 

The  predispositions  may  be  divided  into  three  groups: 
those  which  are  evoked  by  man's  associates,  which  we  will 
call  the  social  predispositions ;  those  which  are  evoked  by  the 
non-human  environment,  which  we  will  call  the  economic 
predispositions;  and  those  which  may  be  evoked  by  either, 
which  we  will  call  the  general  predispositions. 

1.  General  Predispositions. — i.  The  predisposition  to  fear, 
flee  and  hide. 

2.  The  predisposition  to  become   angry  and  fight,  that 
is  to  destroy  whoever  or  whatever  opposes  our  will. 

3.  The  enterprising  predisposition,  the  propensity  to  risk 
•and  dare,  and  hope  and  undertake  and  prosecute  with  en- 
durance, and  determination  in  the  face  of  uncertainty. 

Probably  every  predisposition  has  both  virtuous  and  vicious 
manifestations.  The  manifestations  are  vicious  when  they 
are  out  of  harjnony  with  the  proper  exercise  of  the  other 
propensities.  The  vicious  exercise  of  the  enterprising  propen- 
sity appears  in  dare-deviltry  and  gambling. 

4.  The  impulse  to  self-expression,  the  so'-called  "instinct 
of  workmanship" — namely,  the  propensity  to  take  satisfaction 
in  accomplishing  something  which  is  the  overt  realization  of 
one's  own  will.    In  the  case  of  children  and  the  evil-minded  01 

1  Compare  Author's  article  on  ''The  Social  Forces  Error."  Ameri- 
can Journal  of  Sociology,  Vol.  xvi,  pp.  613  and  642. 


HEREDITARY  CHARACTERISTICS  219 

antisocial,  this  predisposition  finds  satisfaction  in  mischief  or 
destructive  activity  as  truly  as  in  constructive  work.  If  the 
exercise  of  this  propensity  is  on  the  whole  constructive,  it  is 
because  the  will  of  man  is  on  the  whole  reasonable  and  socially 
directed.  There  seems  to  be  no  propriety  in  calling  this 
general  predisposition  to  workmanship  a  specific  instinct.1 

The  "instinct  of  workmanship"  and  the  enterprising  pro- 
pensity are  often  confused  and  they  may  both  be  active 
in  the  same  experience.  But  they  differ  both  in  their  inner  feel 
or  subjective  aspect  and  in  their  overt  manifestations.  The 
enterprising  predisposition  is  daring,  it  persists  and  even  re- 
joices in  the  face  of  uncertainty,  and  tugs  men  toward  what- 
ever course  of  action  has  the  spice  of  a  problematic  project, 
even  though  the  solid  result  promised  is  sometimes  as  futile 
as  a  track  through  drifting  arctic  snows.  The  "instinct  of 
workmanship,"  on  the  other  hand,  can  find  its  satisfaction  in 
following  the  beaten  track  with  patience,  persistence,  and  grit, 
even  in  the  absence  of  stimulating  uncertainty,  and  it  demands 
to  issue  in  some  objective  accomplishment,  for  its  inner 
essence  is  desire  to  see  and  gladness  in  seeing  one's  own 
thought  and  will  realized  in  actual  results.  Most  writers  treat 
the  "instinct  of  workmanship"  as  an  economic  motive,  but  I 
shall  treat  the  propensity  exhibited  by  the  carpenter  who 
enjoys  making  a  good  joint  or  by  the  architect  absorbed  in  a 
design  as  essentially  the  same  human  trait  as  that  exhibited  by 
the  teacher  who  enjoys  making  the  class  work  go  or  by  the 
statesman  absorbed  in  drawing  a  bill  and  securing  its  passage 
into  law. 

5.  Esthetic  discrimination,  the  predisposition  to  feel  dis- 
gust and  repugnance  or  admiration  and  desire  and  creative 
impulse  toward  both  material  and  personal  objects  of  con- 
templation is  characteristic  of  man  as  man,  and  esthetic  dis- 
crimination and  idealism  is  as  truly  instinctive  (in  the  sense 
of  expressing  an  innate  propensity)  in  respect  to  personal 
traits  of  conduct  as  in  respect  to  material  things.  In  both 
fields  men  everywhere  have  their  likes  and  dislikes.  But  in 
respect  to  both,  man  is  capable  of  great  variation  and  progress 

1  Cf .  Author  in  American  Journal  of  Sociology,  xviii,  p.  493. 


220  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

in  standards  of  taste.  Music  has  progressed  from  the  torn, 
torn  to  the  symphony,  painting  and  sculpture  from  the  sketches 
of  the  cavemen  on  their  cavern  walls,  and  drawings  scratched 
in  the  ivory  of  the  mammoth's  tusks  to  Raphael  and  Michael 
Angelo.  Ethical  ideals  have  made  similar  advance.  Ethical 
ideals,  however,  are  not  purely  matters  of  taste  and  sentiment, 
for  taste  and  sentiment  tend  to  reenforce  practical  judgments 
as  to  the  consequences  of  human  traits  or  conduct,  so  that 
more  and  more  as  progress  goes  on  beauty  is  seen  in  that 
conduct  and  character  which  practical  reason,  measuring  the 
effects  produced  upon  all  the  values  which  men  have  learned 
to  prize,  unites  with  instinct  to  approve. 

6.  The  predisposition  to  reason  and  to  rational  conduct, 
the  propensity  to  examine,  experiment,  explain,  forecast,  and 
act  upon  conclusions.  The  cerebral  apparatus  of  reason 
would  not  have  been  developed,  through  natural  selection,  if 
it  had  not  secured  actual  adaptations  to  environment.  Reason 
is  not  merely  receptive  but  also  propulsive.  The  disposition 
to  reason  and,  what  .is  more,  to  act  upon  the  conclusions  of 
reason  is  an  inborn  trait  of  man.  True  enough,  it  may  be 
inhibited  and  overcome  by  other  propensities.  But  it  is  always 
there  asserting  its  claims.  And  the  more  men  know  the 
stronger  the  claims  of  reason  become. 

The  so-called  play  instinct  has  not  been  included  in  this 
enumeration  because,  far  from  being  a  specific  instinct,  it  is 
rather  the  sum  of  all  the  predispositions  which  find  expression 
in  free  and  zestful  activity.  It  is  the  propensity  of  living 
organisms  to  function. 

II.  Economic  Predispositions. — i.  Predisposition  to  eat 
whatever  can  be  eaten. 

2.  A  hunting  (and  fishing)  propensity  is  usually  thought 
to  be  definitely  inherited  from  our  remote  ancestors. 

3.  Acquisitive  predisposition,  the  tendency  to  seek  and 
value  things  as  an  extension  of  the  self,  to  collect  and  hoard. 

Orderliness  is  apparently  an  expression  of  acquisitiveness, 
plus  the  instinct  of  workmanship. 

The  other  predispositions  that  find  expression  in  economic 
life  are,  I  think,  either  general  predispositions  or  social  pro- 


HEREDITARY  CHARACTERISTICS  221 

clivities,  like  the  desire  for  recognition  and  distinction  and 
others  of  those  next  to  be  enumerated. 

III.     Social  Predispositions. — i.     The  mating  instinct 

2.  The  parental  instinct,  characterized  by  tenderness,  pro- 
vision and  protection. 

3.  Sociability, 

Professor  Giddings,  especially  in  his  earlier  writings,  treats 
"the  consciousness  of  kind"  as  the  central  sociological  fact. 
The  recognition  by  the  subject  of  similarity  between  himself 
and  his  associates  may  be  regarded  as  the  stimulant  of  the 
instinct  of  sociability.  It  accounts  for  the  way  birds  of  a 
feather  flock  together.  It  lays  the  foundation  for  associa- 
tion which  increases  the  similarities,  and  develops  practical 
cooperation.  (See  the  references  to  Giddings,  on  the  follow- 
ing page.) 

4.  Predisposition  to   communicate  and  to  receive  com- 
munication,   through   all   the   agencies    of   social   suggestion. 
Communication  takes  place  wherever  B  gets  an  idea  by  ob- 
serving the  conduct  by  which  A  gives  overt  expression  to 
that  idea,  whether  A  intended  his  conduct  as  a  means  of 
communication  with  B  or  not.    All  intelligible  conduct  is  thus 
a  means  of  communication  between  associates.     Symbols  are 
acts  or  objects  devised  for  the  purpose  of  communication.    The 
propensity  to  communicate  is  so  strong  that  all  societies  invent 
symbols.      In    the    brain    the    convolutions    of    Broca    and 
Wernicke  appear  to  be  devoted  to  the  formation  and  interpre- 
tation of  speech.    And  the  conduct  of  children  seems  to  show 
that  any  normal  group  of  human  beings  in  permanent  asso- 
ciation would  begin  the  formation  of  a  language. 

5.  Predisposition  to  imitate,  "sheep-through-the-gap-ish- 
ness."     It  has  been  usual  to  speak  of  an  imitative  instinct, 
but  there  is  no  such  instinct.     Imitation   is  not  the   func- 
tioning of   a   special   hereditary   apparatus,   but   of   any   of 
our  motor  powers.     It  is  not  a  particular  motor  response, 
but  is  any  act  "from  saying,  'Mamma'  to  building  a  battle- 
ship.""1    We  imitate  not  because  we  have  a  specific  instinct 

1  Compare  author's  article  in  the  American  Journal  of  Sociology, 
Vol.  xi,  p.  31,  and  xvii,  p.  387;  also  Wallas:  The  Great  Society,  p.  124. 


222  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

prompting  us  to  do  so,  but  because  we  are  alive  and  ready  and 
eager  to  act;  because  we  act  upon  "ideomotor"  prompting, 
that  is,  every  idea  of  an  action  prompts  the  action  if  there 
is  nothing  to  inhibit  the  prompting;  because  we  get  ideas  of 
action  from  observing  the  acts  of  our  associates,  and  their 
acts  are  such  as  we,  too,  can  perform.  Moreover,  the  acts 
by  which  they  serve  their  purposes  will  often  serve  ours; 
besides,  to  act  as  they  do  gratifies  our  sympathetic  sociability, 
or  "consciousness  of  kind,"  x  to  say  nothing  of  our  desire  for 
recognition  and  our  emulative  self-assertion.  We  imitate  most 
readily  the  actions  by  which  members  of  our  own  species 
gratify  and  express  any  one  of  the  predispositions  that  are 
common  to  our  species.  The  fact  of  imitation  is  more  gen- 
eral than  a  single  instinct.  Indeed  the  word  imitation  has 
been  so  broadly  used  as  to  include,  not  only  the  copying  of 
overt  acts,  but  also  all  passing  of  ideas  and  sentiments  from 
one  associate  to  another  by  communication  and  by  sympathy.  7 
We  shall  use  the  word  imitation  to  refer  only  to  copying  of 
overt  acts. 

6.  Sympathy.     Pain,  like  that  of  a  cut  finger  or  any  irri- 
tation of  the  "pain  spots"  in  the  skin  or  other  tissues,  is  proba- 
bly never  directly  shared  by  sympathy.     The  sight  of  pain 
stimulates  tender  emotion  and  desire  to  help ;  this  is  not  sym- 
pathy but  altruism.    Sadness  and  cheer,  however,  are  directly 
communicable  by  sympathy,  and  the  instinctive  emotions,  like 
anger  and  fear,  are  thus  communicable  (especially  when  ex- 
hibited by  one  of  our  own  partisans),  and  when  two  or  more 
persons  have  the  same  emotion  aroused  by  the  same  excitant, 
the  knowledge  by  each  that  the  others  have  the  emotion  can 
greatly  heighten  the  experience,  especially  when  instinctive 
manifestations  of  the  emotion  are  directly  observed.     Finally 
and  above  all,  sentiments,  like  ambitions,  tastes  and  distastes, 
and  moral  approvals  and  disapprovals  are  powerfully  radiated 
by  sympathy. 

7.  Gratitude  and  resentment  or  vengefulness. 

1  See  Giddings:  Principles  of  Sociology,  p.  17  and  passim; 
Descriptive  and  Historical  Sociology,  p.  275  seq.s  and  passim;  Inductive 
Sociology,  pp.  63,  99  and  passim. 


HEREDITARY  CHARACTERISTICS  223 

8.  Sensitiveness  to  social  approval  and  disapproval,  the 
desire  for  recognition,  distinction,  approval,  love  and  pained 
avoidance  of  disapproval,  dislike,  and  slights.     This  perhaps 
is  the  chief  of  all  the  springs  of  endeavor  beyond  that  re- 
quired to  meet  the  requirements  of  a  low  standard  of  bodily 
comfort,   the    chief    fulcrum   by   which   society   controls   its 
members  and  brings  order  and  cooperation  out  of  what  would 
otherwise  be  chaos,  and  the  chief  basis  of  human  happiness 
and  misery. 

9.  Dominance,  the  predisposition  to  boss  and  domineer 
over  all  who  will  submit,  self-assertion^  self-aggrandizement, 
tendency  to  feel  big  and  masterful,  and  to  act  accordingly. 
This  may  be  thought  by  some  to  be  a  special  manifestation 
of  the  foregoing.     In  that  case  it  is  so  special  as  to  require 
separate  enumeration  if  our  thinking  is  to  be  at  all  analytic. 
As  a  matter  of  fact  dominance  is  relatively  weak  in  many  in 
whom   sensitiveness    to   social   approval   and   disapproval   is 
strong,  and  instinctive  dominance  often  appears  to  be  stronger 
in  those  whose  sensitiveness  to  approval  and  disapproval  is 
weaker;  that  is,  the  two  traits  apparently  tend,  other  things 
being  equal,  to  vary  inversely  in  strength. 

10.  Self -sub  ordination  is  nowadays   regarded  as  a  dis- 
tinct predisposition  and  even  an  instinct.     Possibly,  however, 
it  is  a  combination  of  fear,  sensitiveness  to  social  approval 
and  disapproval,  imitativeness,  and  partisanship. 

Each  person  has  both  the  tendency  to  dominance  and  the 
tendency  to  self-subordination,  and  responds  with  one  or 
the  other  according  to  the  nature  of  the  situation  in  which 
he  finds  himself.  The  person  who  most  often  responds  with 
dominance  is  not  at  all  certain  to  be  the  wisest  or  the  bravest. 
A  new  suit  of  clothes  will  greatly  increase  the  tendency  to 
dominance;  so  will  a  robust  figure  or  a  deep  voice,  and  so 
will  the  consciousness  of  acknowledged  wealth,  position,  or 
prestige  in  any  of  its  forms.  One  who,  like  Grant,  is  modest 
and  even  shrinking  may  have  the  necessary  courage,  deter- 
mination, and  wisdom  to  prove  the  greatest  leader  when  the 
detection  of  his  qualities  by  others  causes  leadership  to  be 
offered  him.  But  it  is  the  assertive,  self-confident,  instinctive!* 


224  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

domineering  person  to  whom  leadership  at  first  gravitates. 
And  one  who  lacks  a  due  measure  of  these  qualities  is  likely 
to  shun  responsibility  unless  it  is  definite  and  obvious  and  to 
be  too  much  influenced  by  others  to  exercise  cardinal  func- 
tions with  the  greatest  success.  The  domineering  propensity 
and  bigness  of  self-sense  may  be  accompanied  by  a  high 
degree  of  altruism  as  appears  to  have  been  the  case  with 
Washington. 

11.  Partisanship,  we-feeling,  or  sense  of  collective  iden- 
tity,   self-consciousness    that    includes    group    consciousness. 
This  is  illustrated  by  the  boy  who  may  bully  his  little  brother, 
but  will  not  stand  by  and  see  the  boy  from  across  the  street 
do  so;  by  the  boys  who  go  to  school  along  the  same  street 
and  snowball  the  boys  from 'another  street;  by  the  pupils  of 
one  school  as  against  those  of  other  schools ;  by  operatives  in 
the  same  factory  as  against  those  of  another  factory,  and 
workers  on  one  floor  of  a  factory  as  against  those  on  another 
floor  of  the  same  factory;  by  neighborhoods,  sects,  cliques, 
clans,  nationalities,  and  by  all  groups  of  individuals  who  share 
a  common  relation,  as  against  all  outsiders.    On  one  side  par- 
tisanship is  group-loyalty,  devotion,  and  tendency  to  extol  and 
aggrandize ;  on  the  other  side  it  is  bigotry  and  unacknowledged 
prejudice,     misunderstanding,     depreciation,     and     tendency 
toward  hate  and  active  hostility.     It  is   corporate  self-con- 
sciousness and  self-assertion.     It  is  the  circle  of  selfishness 
drawn  larger.    And  while  it  swallows  up  the  narrowest  forms 
of  selfishness,  it  creates  the  same  need  as  does  other  selfish- 
ness for  the  struggle  to  be  just.     It  limits  the  range  of  suc- 
cessful cooperation  and  mutual  helpfulness.    It  is  a  universal 
predisposition  of  great  strength  and  enormous  social  conse- 
quences.    Intercommunication,  enlightenment,  and  the  habit 
of  reasoned  life  tend  toward  the  brotherhood  of  man. 

12.  Altruism,  or  "the  impulse  to  help"  or  "the  spirit  of 
cooperation."     Altruism  is  by  no  means  the  same  thing  as 
sympathy.    Sympathy  may  be  present  in  relatively  high  degree 
and  altruism  in  relatively  low   degree.     As  we  saw  above 
sympathy  provides  for  the  radiation  of  emotions  and  senti- 
ments and  but  little  if  at  all  for  the  radiation  of  specific 


HEREDITARY  CHARACTERISTICS  225 

pleasure-pain  values.  Altruism  is  guided  by  reason  and  by 
remembrance  of  our  own  pleasures  and  pains,  rather  than  by 
direct  radiation  of  the  pains  and  pleasures  of  others.  Altru- 
ism or  the  impulse  to  help  is  by  itself  a  specific  propensity. 

Many  extend  their  conception  of  the  parental  instinct  so 
as  to  include  all  altruism.1  It  may  be  quite  true  that  the 
necessity  of  parental  tenderness  and  care  to  secure  the  sur- 
vival of  species  among  mammals  was  the  chief  cause  of  the 
evolution  of  the  propensity  to  altruism,2  and  possibly  it  is  true 
that  the  emotion  and  the  activities  of  altruism  everywhere 
resemble  those  of  parenthood.  But  group-helpfulness  out- 
side of  the  parental  relation  had  a  distinct  survival  value 3 
among  the  gregarious  creatures.  And  the  propensity  to 
group  cooperation  outside  the  circle  of  the  family  is  of  such 
measureless  social  importance  as  to  require  it  to  be  empha- 
sized here.  It  is  not  absolutely  essential  here  to  decide  whether 
all  altruism  is  or  is  not  in  origin  an  extension  of  a  propensity 
originally  evolved  for  the  care  of  offspring. 

13.  Justice.  Justice  or  fair  play  may  be  regarded  as  a 
distinct  propensity  inasmuch  as  it  has  a  specific  excitant, 
namely,  the  conflicting  interests  of  associates,  and  character- 
istic manifestations.  Justice,4  however,  is  simply  reason  and 
altruism  called  into  action  by  conflicting  interests  of  conscious 
beings.  It  is  the  propensity  to  reason  and  to  act  upon  reason 
in  the  presence  of  recognized  conflicting  interests  of  different 
individuals. 

We  are  obliged  to  recognize  that  the  propensities  and 
interests  often  conflict.  What  is  to  act  as  umpire  when  they 
thus  conflict?  Reason  alone  is  fitted  to  be  the  chief  and 
ruler  among  the  propensities  of  man,  because  reason  is  the 
freest  of  them  all  from  bondage  to  any  single  aspect  of  the 


1  For  a  good  statement  of  this  view  see  Thornstein  Vebl^ 
Instinct  of  Workmanship,  Macmillan,  1914,  pp.  25,  26,  27. 

3  See   Drummond :   The  Ascent  of   Man,   Jas.   Pott  &  Co.,   1894, 
chaps,  vii  and  viii.  ;V  f  y^* 

8  Kropotkin :  Mutual  Aid  a  Factor  in  Evolution,  McCktre,  Phillips 
«&-€<!,   1903. 

4  What  is  called  retributive  justice  is  simply  anger  more  or  less 
modified  by  justice. 


226  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

situation.  It  is  remotest  from  the  simple  type  of  instinct 
that  like  the  springing  of  a  trap  responds  automatically  to 
one  form  of  external  stimulus.  It  is  affected  by  all  the  facts 
of  the  case  and  all  the  recognized  consequences  of  conduct, 
both  immediate  and  remote.  Will  is  most  truthfully  con- 
ceived, not  as  a  separate  power,  but  as  the  whole  being  going 
into  action.  And  will  is  most  worthy  of  its  name  when  man 
goes  into  action  with  total  and  not  fractional  response,  all 
the  propensities  summoned  by  the  occasion  and  by  the  mem- 
ories pertaining,  to  it  functioning  duly  under  the  presidency 
of  reason. 

14.  Conscience.  No  man  is  born  with  a  conscience  any 
more  than  one  is  born  with  a  language.  But  just  as  we  are 
born  with  the  predisposition  to  communicate  and  so  to  learn 
a  language  if  one  is  spoken  by  our  associates,  otherwise  to 
begin  to  make  one,  so  also  we  are  born  with  the  predisposition 
to  acquire  from  society  a  conscience  or  to  begin  the  making 
of  one.  Just  how  this  making  of  conscience  proceeds  we 
shall  have  occasion  to  observe  in  a  later  connection.  The 
making  and  acquisition  of  conscience  is  a  function  in  which 
propensities  already  mentioned  cooperate,  namely,  esthetic 
idealism,  practical  reason  which  estimates  conduct  by  its  con- 
sequences, amenability  to  social  approval  and  disapproval  and 
to  sympathetic  radiation  that  absorbs  the  moral  sentiments 
already  prevalent,  and  justice  which  applies  to  oneself  the 
standards  of  judgment  which  we  pass  upon  others.  Con- 
science is  not  a  single  faculty  but  the  combined  resultant  of 
individual  and  social  reactions  that  ultimately  shape  the 
mental  state  which  the  individual  has  toward  his  own  conduct. 

The  possession  of  all  these  predispositions  does  not  make 
man  civilized.  Only  a  long  process  of  social  evolution  can 
do  that.  The  possession  of  all  the  predispositions  in  their 
highest  development  would  not  supply  a  society,  still  less  an 
isolated  individual,  with  a  developed  language,  conscience,  re- 
ligion, government,  or  industrial  arts.  Only  a  prolonged 
process  of  social  evolution  has  brought  such  realities  into 
existence.  Biological  evolution  even  at  its  highest  level  leaves 
man  naked  of  soul  as  well  as  body.  Even  the  lowest  savages 


HEREDITARY  CHARACTERISTICS  22? 

already  possess  a  rich  heritage  of  social  as  well  as  of  bio- 
logical evolution.  The  differences  between  our  life  and  theirs 
result  mainly  from  the  differences  between  their  social  evolu- 
tion and  ours.  They  also  have  all  the  propensities.1 

Only  Minor  Variations  in  Instincts  and  Predispositions  of 
Normal  Individuals. — Those  instincts  that .  characterize  one 
portion  of  humanity  characterize  normal  humanity  as  a  whole. 
It  is  a  mistake  to  think  that  the  nature  peoples  are  "savages" 
in  their  dealings  with  the  people  of  their  own  class.  They 
are  not  brought  up  under  the  softening  influence  of  the  most 
advanced  moral  ideals;  the  conditions  of  their  life  occasion 
many  customs  that  seem  to  us  cruel ;  and  ungoverned  impulse 
impels  the  same  men  now  toward  tenderness,  fair  play,  and 

1  In  its  tentative  stage  sociology,  instead  of  explaining  social 
realities  by  the  scientific  method,  that  is  by  an  analysis  and  synthesis 
of  all  the  conditions  by  which  they  are  molded,  has  referred  them  to 
"social  forces."  This  expression  has  meant  human  "desires"  or 
"purposes,"  a  mixture  of  the  predispositions  vaguely  conceived,  with 
the  emotional  outgo  in  activity.  The  same  author  will  discuss  the 
desires,  or  "social  forces,"  now  as  if  he  meant  the  inborn  predisposi- 
tions, and  again  as  if  he  meant  the  emotional  aspect  of  activity.  These 
two  ought  to  be  distinguished.  'The  predispositions  ought  to  be  identi- 
fied with  a  reasonable  degree  of  analytic  accuracy.  When  so  recognized 
they  are  seen  to  be  a  part  of  the  biological  or  psychophysical  conditions 
of  human  conduct.  The  psychophysical  conditions  are  only  one  of 
four  sets  of  causal  conditions,  certainly  no  more  significant  for 
sociology  than  the  social  conditions,  and  far  enough  from  being  the 
social  causes,  far  enough  from  giving  complete  or  adequate  sociological 
explanation,  and  far  enough  from  defining  the  field  of  sociology — all 
of  which  has  been  claimed  for  the  "social  forces."  And  the  emotional 
outgo  in  social  activity  is  still  further  from  being  the  cause,  and 
adequate  sociological  explanation  of  such  activity.  The  "purpose,"  the 
"desire"  thus  conceived,  is  the  social  activity  which  is  to.be  explained 
and  not  the  "force"  explaining  it.  To  say  that  the  purpose  or  desire 
to  migrate  is  the  sociological  explanation  of  the  overt  fact  of  migra- 
tion is  amazingly  superficial.  The  purpose  and  desire  to  migrate  is 
the  social  fact,  on  its  subjective  side  (see  p.  357).  Until  that  purpose 
and  desire  is  explained  there  is  no  explanation  of  the  migration  that 
has  a  particle  of  scientific  validity  or  significance.  For  a  summary 
of  some  of  the  attempts  to  enumerate  "the  social  forces"  see  Ross : 
Foundations  of  Sociology,  chapter  vii,  especially  pages  165  ff.  Compare 
the  reference  on  page  218. 


228  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

loyalty,  and  again  toward  treachery  and  violence.  They  usu- 
ally regard  warlike  hostility  toward  outsiders  as  meritorious, 
vengeance  for  wrongs  as  a  solemn  duty,  and  the  man  who 
fails  to  exact  revenge  for  an  injury  to  himself  or  to  any 
fellow-tribesman  as  a  craven.  But  they  also  frequently  regard 
the  man  who  forgets  a  kindness  as  despicable  and  are  often 
impulsively  altruistic  and  highly  sociable  among  themselves. 
Among  a  hundred  peoples,  savage  and  civilized,  chosen  at 
random,  the  Anglo-Saxon  race  would  probably  be  by  nature 
not  more  sociable  and  not  less  violent  and  vengeful  than  the 
average. 

Although  all  the  human  instincts  are  supposed  to  be  uni- 
versal among  normal  individuals  of  our  genus,  yet  they  vary 
in  their  urgency  more  or  less  between  races,  between  the  sexes, 
and  most  of  all  between  individuals;  and  these  variations  in 
sociability,  in  sympathy,  in  parental  tenderness,  in  clannish- 
ness,  in  loyalty,  in  justice,  in  dominance,  in  acquisitiveness, 
in.  caution  and  timidity,  in  hardihood  and  hopeful  confidence 
play  an  important  part  in  the  destiny  of  social  groups. 

Abnormal  deficiency  first  in  altruism  and  second  in  sen- 
sitiveness to  social  approval  and  disapproval  characterize  the 
born  criminal.  What  we  call  natural  conscientiousness  is 
largely  the  manifestation  of  sensitiveness  to  social  judgments 
together  with  the  imagination  and  esthetic  sensibility  to 
cherish  ideals.  The  conscientious  child  cannot  bear  to  do 
what  parent  or  teacher  disapproves  or  would  disapprove  if 
knowing  the  action.  Such  a  child  judges  himself  by  the 
standard  used  by  his  parents  and  teachers  and  is  elevated  or 
depressed  by  these  self -judgments.  The  normal  gamin  will 
bear  and  do  to  win  the  admiration  of  the  gang.  The  hero 
"seeks  glory  e'en  at  the  cannon's  mouth."  The  utmost  develop- 
ment and  exertion  of  every  power  that  human  beings  possess 
can  be  elicited  by  these  motives.  Society  can  have  from  its 
members  whatever  it  sufficiently  admires  and  appreciates  in 
them. 

Altruism,  sociability,  and  sensitiveness  to  social  approval 
and  disapproval,  as  well  as  vengefulness,  are  sometimes  thought 
to  be  more  strongly  developed  in  women  than  in  men,  and 


HEREDITARY  CHARACTERISTICS  229 

in  the  races  of  southern  Europe  than  in  those  of  northern 
Europe. 

Emphasis  has  been  given  by  some  sociologists  to  supposed 
differences  in  the  urgency  of  the  reproductive  instinct,  and 
in  fertility.  The  fact  appears  to  be  that  all  races  are  suffi- 
ciently fertile,  at  least  potentially,  but  they  differ  widely  in 
the  physiological  and  pathological  costs  of  maternity  and  so 
in  actual  fertility.  In  this  respect,  civilized  woman  is  at  a 
great  disadvantage  as  compared  with  savage  woman,  and 
physicians  say  that  a  difference  in  this  respect  can  be  observed 
among  different  social  classes  of  the  same  population.  Among 
possible  causes  may  be  named  the  elimination  by  death,  among 
races  and  classes  that  do  not  have  expert  medical  service,  of 
individuals  and  strains  that  are  incapable  of  normal  maternity, 
also  the  deleterious  effects  of  meddling  with  natural  processes, 
of  indoor  life,  of  lack  of  free  muscular  movement,  and  of 
excessive  nervous  activity.  Races  and  individuals  differ  ma- 
terially in  respect  to  the  age  at  which  the  reproductive  organs 
mature,  a  warm  climate  favoring  early  maturity.  The  prompt- 
ings of  the  reproductive  instinct  are,  generally  speaking,  dis- 
tinctly more  urgent  in  the  male  and  retain  this  quality  later 
in  life.  They  are  said  to  be  specially  so  in  the  negro  race, 
and  this  is  spoken  of  as  a  biological  adjustment  to  life  in  a 
region  having  a  high  death  rate  and  requiring  a  high  birth 
rate,  The  morality  of  numerous  individuals  of  this  race  sug- 
gests that  the  laxity  of  others  is  due  more  to  lack  of  inhibiting 
ideals  and  strength  and  lack  of  inhibiting  motives  furnished 
by  the  social  environment  than  to  excessive  instinctive  tend- 
ency. The  instinct  is  probably  developed  to  something  like 
a  biological  extreme  in  normal  and  vigorous  males  of  most 
races.  It  is  excited  or  allayed  by  psychological  as  well  as 
physical  causes,  so  that  its  excitation  is  largely  a  matter  of 
attention  and  suggestion.  It  should,  therefore,  be  a  point  of 
good  breeding  not  to  call  attention  to  it  except  for  some 
important  reason ;  not  because  any  element  in  nature  is  des- 
picable, but  because  life  is  a  problem  in  proportion,  and  only 
by  design  can  the  proportion  be  maintained  which  duly  subor- 
dinates the  most  excitable  of  all  animal  impulses,  which  was 


230  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

already  evolved  in  paleolithic  time,  to  the  newer  attainments 
of  civilization  and  ethical  idealism  upon  which  our  hold  as 
yet  is  comparatively  precarious. 

General  Neural  Traits. — Having  discussed  the  predisposi- 
tions, that  is,  those  complex  coordinations  which  predispose 
mankind  to  certain  more  or  less  definite  forms  of  activity 
and  experience  we  should  now  observe  certain  inborn  varia- 
tions in  the  free  powers  of  sensation,  of  perception,  of  mem- 
ory, of  associative  intelligence  and  reason,  and  of  attention 
and  will,  viewed  broadly  and  not  merely  in  particular  com- 
binations into  which  they  enter.  With  reference  to  these 
native  powers  of  the  human  mind  there  are  variations  which 
are  of  great  significance  in  conditioning  variations  in  social 
activity.  We  are  speaking  here  of  inborn  variations,  but  it 
must  not  be  forgotten  that  these  traits  of  man  are  subject 
also  to  postnatal  modification,  repression  and  development. 
Among  the  inborn  variations  in  these  normal  traits  the  fol- 
lowing may  be  particularly  mentioned: 

1.  Keenness  of  the  five  senses,  and  pain.     Some  savages 
under  mutilation  exhibit  not  only  stoicism  but  also  a  mar- 
velous insensibility  to  pain  as  well  as  an  equally  marvelous 
power  to  heal  and  recuperate  from  wounds.    In  the  j^eenness 
of  the  five  senses  there  are  great  differences  between  individ- 
uals and  smaller  differences  between  races.     The  wonderful 
superiority  of  the  savage  as  an  observer  of  nature  is,  however, 
for  the  most  part  not  a  superiority  of  sensation  but  a  superior- 
ity of  perception ;  that  is,  of  the  mental  process  that  lies  behind 
the  sensation  and  gives  it  meaning.     He  has  been  educated 
to  read  nature's  signs  and  we  wonder  at  him  as  he  wonders 
at  us  when  we  read  a  book,  or  as  a  child  in  the  copybook 
stage  wonders  at  the  reader  of  a  badly  written  manuscript 
or  at  his  father's  rapid  turning  of  closely  printed  pages. 

2.  Type  of  mental  imagery.     The  person  who  can  draw 
well  may  not  have  better  eyes  than  the  person  who  can  never 
draw ;  and  he  may  not  have  better  perception,  but  only  a  dif- 
ferent kind  of  perception.     His  attention  naturally  occupies 
itself  with  spatial  images,  while  that  of  the  other  person  may 
occupy  itself  predominantly  with  auditory  images.    The  mem- 


HEREDITARY  CHARACTERISTICS  231 

ory  stores  of  the  one  will  consist  more  of  visual  elements,  and 
those  of  the  other  of  auditory  elements.  One  will  spell  "by 
the  looks,"  the  other  "by  the  sound."  One  may  be  a  painter, 
the  other  a  poet  or  a  musician.  The  difference  extends  to 
the  thinking  of  each.  Most  of  our  thinking  is  figurative  and 
the  figures  of  thought  are  predominantly  visual  or  auditory. 
Even  abstract  words  like  dignity  or  meanness  to  many,  if  not 
to  most  of  us,  carry  with  them  a  vague,  fragmentary,  and 
dreamlike  picture  or  tone. 

3.  Esthetic  sensibility.     Probably  all  races,  including  the 
lowest  savages,  have  native  esthetic  sensibility.    Esthetic  sen- 
sibility may  be :  ( I )  sensuous,  that  is,  excited  by  pure  sensa- 
tion i  (2)  idealistic  or  humanistic,  that  is,  excited  by  ideas  of 
personality  or  personal  traits   or   conduct;    (3)    intellectual, 
that  is,  excited  by  the  logical  fitness,  harmony  and  complete- 
ness of  that  which  they  perceive  or  imagine.    It  is  sometimes 
thought  that  the  races  of  southern  Europe  have  more  sensuous 
estheticism  than  those  of  the  north,  but  it  may  be  that  the 
difference  is  rather  that  they  like  somewhat  different  color 
tones  and  objects.    It  is  said  that  the  races  of  the  north  have 
more  esthetic  idealism,  but  this  would  be  hard  to  prove.    There 
are  some  reasons  for  thinking  that  the  southern  races  possess 
a  higher  degree  of  intellectual  estheticism.    Certainly  the  Eng- 
lish-speaking race  seems  inclined  often  to  ignore  logical  con- 
sistency and  to  be  influenced  only  by  practical  considerations 
that  are  thrust  upon   men  by   present   exigencies.      Logical 
consistency  is  one  guide  to  truth,  but  the  esthetic  enthusiasm 
for  logical  consistency  may  lead  men  to  spin  out  their  systems 
too  far  beyond  their  fragmentary  knowledge.     Individuals  of 
the  same  race  vary  in  their  sensitiveness  to  the  beauty  per- 
ceptible to  eye  and  ear,  and  also  in  respect  to  what  particular 
sights  or  sounds  will  move  them ;  the  latter,  however,  as  com- 
parative sociology  proves,  is  not  so  much  a  difference  of  inborn 
tendency  as  of  education.    We  differ  also  both  in  responsive- 
ness to  ideal  beauty  and,  as  a  result  of  social  rather  than 
psychophysical  causes,  we  differ  widely  in  respect  to  the  par- 
ticular manifestation  of  character  which  we  admire. 

4.  Retentiveness  of  memory  is  in  part  a  matter  of  con- 


232  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

genital  tendency  but,  generally  speaking,  varies  far  more  from 
youth  to  old  age  in  the  same  individual  than  it  does  from 
individual  to  individual.  Hence,  youth  is  the  time  for  the 
collection  of  general  memory  stores,  the  acquisitions  of  ma- 
turity being  mainly  confined. to  fields  of  specialization.  Qual- 
ity of  memory  depends  in  part  upon  natural  retentiveness,  in 
part  upon  type  of  imagery,  some  having  an  enormous  reten- 
tiveness for  auditory  and  others  for  visual  impressions.  But 
it  depends  far  more  upon  awakened  interest  and  attention 
bent  in  particular  directions,  and  upon  niental  organization. 

5.  Degree  of  mental  organisation.     The  most  important 
difference  between  the  intellects  of   men  is  in  the  way  in 
which  elements  of   consciousness   relate  themselves  to  each 
other.    In  one  mind  objects  of  perception  and  thought  hardly 
relate  themselves  in  any  way  except  that  in  which  they  are 
presented  to  the  mind  by  sense  perception.     In  another  mind 
any  element  in  the  mental  content  of  one  moment  is  likely  to 
free  itself  from  the  other  elements  that  were  presented  in  con- 
nection with  it,  and  relate  itself  to  anything  that  the  memory 
contains  for  which  it  has  an  essential  kinship.     The  latter 
mind  perceives   the  special   significance  of  particular   ideas, 
builds    up    about    them    new    inventions    and    structures    of 
thought.     Such  a  mind  finds  intellectual  activity  interesting 
and  is  capable  of  prolonged  concentration  of  attention,  and  is 
not  sterile  but  fertile.     Minds  of  a  relatively  low  order  can 
be  stimulated  to  some  constructiveness  by  the  presence  of 
practical  necessity  requiring  the  solution  of  a  problem.    Minds 
of  high  order  find  constructive  thought  a  delight. 

6.  Type  of  motor  response.     Quite  as  important  as  intel- 
lectual quality  is  the  promptness,  force,  and  persistence  of  the 
set  of  attention  and  of  conation  that  results  from  the  pres- 
ence of  an  idea  in  the  mind.    This,  in  fact,  is  the  culminating 
distinction  between  human  beings.     Promptness  and  persist- 
ence may  vary  together  or  inversely.     It  is  especially  needful 
to  distinguish  between  fractional  and  total  response  resulting 
in  peripheral  or  central  control.     Each  idea  coming  from  the 
external  world  tends  to  elicit  a  response.     I  hear  you  speak 
and  I  answer;  see  an  open  magazine  and  pause  to  read,  ob- 


HEREDITARY  CHARACTERISTICS  233 

serve  the  brilliant  lights  at  the  entrance  to  a  place  of 'enter- 
tainment, am  invited  by  a  friend  to  enter  and  turn  with  him 
to  go  in.  In  each  case  there  are  in  my  memory  other  ideas 
related  to  the  incoming  idea.  Do  they  remain  latent  and  for 
the  time  being  more  than  half  forgotten  ?  Do  I  act  as  if  the 
idea  coming  from  the  external  world  were  the  only  idea  to  be 
had  on  the  subject?  If  I  do,  my  response  is  fractional;  but 
if  the  incoming  idea  which  calls  my  attention  to  a  given  sub- 
ject arouses  the  other  ideas  that  I  have  on  the  subject  so 
that  my  action  expresses  the  resultant  of  all  my  thoughts  about 
it  and  not  merely  of  the  one  that  is  being  externally  empha- 
sized, then  my  response  is  total.  In  the  latter  case  my  answer 
to  you  will  not  be  suggested  by  the  form  of  your  question, 
but  by  my  reflection ;  I  shall  not  read  the  magazine  if  I  ought 
to  be  doing  something  else;  I  shall  not  enter  the  place  of  en- 
tertainment if  I  had  wisely  resolved  to  go  home  to  study. 
In  the  one  case  the  control  under  which  I  act  is  peripheral, 
comes  from  without,  and  stirs  up  a  fraction  of  my  nature 
which  goes  off  into  action  as  if  that  were  all  there  were  of 
me.  In  the  other  case  the  control  under  which  I  act  is  cen- 
tral and  I  do  not  act  save  as  that  which  is  within  me  consents. 
The  man  .of  fractional  response  and  peripheral  control  has 
frequently  to  say,  "What  a  fool  I  was !"  He  says  it  truly, 
for  he  has  acted  as  if  the  results  of  his  past  experience,  de- 
liberate reflection,  and  intention  did  not  exist ;  for  the  time 
being  they  did  not  exist  for  him  because  they  had  no  place  in 
his  attention.  This  is  what  Spinoza  meant  by  saying  that  the 
passionate  man  is  a  passive  man.  The  man  as  a  whole, 
enriched  by  experience,  reflection,  and  judgment  is  passive,  in- 
active, while  some  mere  fragment  of  his  nature  stimulated 
from  without  goes  into  action. 

The  man  of  fractional  response  and  peripheral  control  is 
prompt  in  his  responses,  appears  lively  like  a  bouncing  object, 
is  often  merry  company,  but  he  is  light.  The  man  of  weight 
whom  others  respect  and  follow  is  often  more  silent  and  slow ; 
though  silence  and  slowness  are  no  virtue  in  themselves,  and 
in  a  man  of  the  highest  organization  total  response  is  rapid 
upon  occasion  and  may  be  usually  so. 


234  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

The  man  of  total  response  is  the  only  one  who  can  rely 
upon  himself  to  carry  out  an  intention.  The  man  of  frac- 
tional response  is  continually  being  called  aside  from  the  way 
he  had  chosen.  This  is  the  deepest  meaning  of  the  words, 
"straight  and  narrow  path" ;  it  is  the  path  of  the  man  who  is 
going  somewhere,  who  does  not  wander  hither  and  yon,  turned 
aside  by  every  momentary  allurement  and  suggestion,  but 
keeps  to  the  track  and  will  arrive  at  his  predetermined  destina- 
tion. It  is  the  path  "that  leadeth  unto  life."  It  is  often  said 
that  the  people  of  southern  Europe  are  more  fractional  in 
their  responses  than  those  of  northern  Europe.  But  when  we 
contemplate  their  achievements  we  are  led  to  wonder  if  it  can 
be  true.  They  seem  to  be  quicker  and  more  volatile,  less  de- 
liberate, balanced,  and  so  to  speak  ballasted,  more  gregarious 
and  with  stronger  primary  social  emotions,  more  amenable  to 
social  suggestion  and  less  independent.  If  they  are  some- 
what less  characterized  by  central  control,  they  may  be  guided 
toward  achievement  by  somewhat  greater  ardor  for  their  aims 
and  somewhat  greater  thirst  for  glory. 

Temperament. — Besides  the  specific'  instincts  and  the  gen- 
eral neural  powers,  human  beings  are  characterized  by  inborn 
differences  not  in  the  special  apparatus  of  conscious  activity 
but  in  the  other  organs  of  the  body,  which,  however,  by  their 
functioning  or  by  the  products  of  their  functioning,  act  upon 
the  brain  and  nerves  and  so  indirectly  affect  the  conscious 
activities.  To  this  class  of  inborn  traits  I  am  appropriating 
the  name^  temperament.  Our  physiological  knowledge  is  not 
sufficient  to  enable  us  to  determine  just  how  much  of  the 
character  of  a  man's  conscious  activity  is  due  to  traits  of 
his  brain  and  nerves,  and  how  much  to  traits  of  his  stomach, 
glands,  and  other  organs.  But  we  know  that  differences  of 
both  kinds  play  a  part.  After  a  strong  cup  of  coffee  a  man 
may  feel,  think,  and  act  very  differently  from  the  manner 
which  he  exhibited  before  the  drink.  A  glass  of  whiskey  will 
produce  a  still  greater  change.  These  beverages  directly 
produce  purely  physical  results,  but  these  results  manifest 
themselves  in  the  thought,  emotion,  speech,  and  acts  of  the 
drinkers.  The  effects  of  temperamental  differences  are  some- 


HEREDITARY  CHARACTERISTICS  235 

what  similar.  Diminished  activity  of  the  thyroid  gland  causes 
lassitude  and  laziness ;  its  removal  causes  idiocy.  Dyspepsia 
and  diabetes  tend  to  produce  sourness  and  depression  of 
spirits.  Pulmonary  consumption  promotes  sweetness  and 
hopefulness.  The  toxins  of  fever  induce  ravings  and  visions. 
Chemical  action  goes  on -in  every  organ  of  the  body.  Many 
organs  thus  contribute  to  the  circulating  blood  elements  which 
affect  the  other  organs  to  which  the  blood  flows.  And  it  is 
probable  that  each  of  them  "exerts  in  this  indirect  way  some 
influence  on  our  mental  life." *  In  addition,  many  of  the 
bodily  organs  directly  affect  the  different  nerves  and  so  con- 
tribute something  to  "the  way  we  feel,"  the  big  dim  back- 
ground of  our  consciousness.  Thus,  a  well-developed  and 
well-toned  muscular  system  probably  tends  to  pervade  con- 
sciousness with  courage.  Though  the  difference  in  the  influ- 
ence of  temperament  between  two  given  individuals  be  slight 
at  any  one  time  "it  operates  as  a  constant  bias  in  one  direction 
during  mental  development  and  the  formation  of  habits" 2 
and  is  thus  responsible  for  much  in  the  disposition,  views 
and  conduct  of  the  adult. 

One  of  the  most  pronounced  hereditary  contrasts  is  that 
between  those  persons  who  dwell  upon  dark  thoughts,  exagger- 
ate caution  into  anxiety  and  dread,  and  seem  to  have  their 
attention  fascinated  by  ideas  of  the  horrible,  and  those  whose 
minds  shy  away  from  unpleasant  thoughts,  substitute  for 
hard  realities  pleasant  dreams  and  who  may  exhibit  a  light- 
minded  cheerfulness  or  a  dare-devil  spirit.  There  is  a  normal 
balance  between  these  two  tendencies,  and  there  are  also  two 
well-known  forms  of  insanity  in  which  one  or  the  other  of 
these  tendencies  is  carried  to  an  extreme. 

The  attempt  is  often  made  to  enumerate  the  temperaments. 
The  commonest  enumeration  is :  nervous,  phlegmatic,  choleric, 
sanguine.  The  nervous  temperament  is  supposed  to  favor 
mental  activity ;  the  phlegmatic  temperament  to  incline  toward 
heaviness  of  body  and  slowness  both  of  thought  and  of  mus- 
cular movement ;  the  choleric  temperament  to  exhibit  itself  in 

'McDougal:   Social  Psychology,  p.  118. 
2  Ibid.,  p.  116. 


236  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

restless  energy ;  the  sanguine  temperament  to  produce  muscular 
strength  and  athleticism  and  instinctive  impulsiveness  of  be- 
havior. These  titles  are  not  without  some  rude  correspondence 
to  certain  facts.  But  there  are  more  than  four  or  five  or  six 
respects  in  which  temperaments  differ,  and  with  respect  to  each 
they  may  differ  in  all  degrees,  and  the  points  of  difference  may 
appear  in  many  combinations,  each  manifesting  itself  as  a 
distinct  temperament  And  since  six  simple  elements  can 
unite  in  720  different  combinations  and  ten  simple  elements  can 
unite  in  3,628,800  different  combinations,  it  seems  of  doubtful 
profit  to  try  to  name  the  temperaments. 

Metabolism. — Differences  of  temperament,  fundamentally 
considered,  are  mainly  differences  in  metabolism^  that  is,  in 
vital  chemistry.  Metabolism  is  the  combination  of  anabolism 
and  kataltolism.  Anabolism  is  the  conversion  of  the  materials 
deriveoTfrom  food  into  living  tissue,  in  general  the  activity  of 
the  so-called  unconscious  or  vegetative  functions.  The  Esqui- 
maux, for  example,  appears  to  be  highly  endowed  in  this  re- 
spect, and  woman  seems  to  be  more  anabolic  than  man.  The 
characteristic  physical  manifestation  of  anabolism  preponder- 
ating over  katabolism  is  plumpness,  and  this  preponderance 
is  thought  to  be  both  a  cause  and  an  effect  of  the  psychic 
traits  of  serenity,  placidity  and  comfortable  quietism. 

Katabolism  is  the  tearing  down  and  using  up  of  living 
tissue,  as  in  nervous  and  muscular  functioning.  It  is  explo- 
siveness,  while  anabolism  is  charging.  It  manifests  itself  in 
boys  as  muscular  activity,  in  men  as  laboriousness,  enterprise, 
exploration,  pushing  out  of  the  organism  after  active  contacts.. 
The  European  races  are  highly  katabolic ;  the  lean  Yankee  ex- 
hibits a  katabolic  type,  and  man  as  a  whole  is  relatively  more 
katabolic  than  woman. 

Metabolism  is  the  combination  of  anabolism  and  katabolism 
and  the  biological  ideal  is  a  high  degree  of  each,  so  balanced 
that  neither  shall  appear  excessive.  The  appearance  that 
woman  is  more  anabolic  than  man  may  really  be  due  simply 
to  the  fact  that  she  is  less  katabolic.  The  two  are  complemen- 
tary and  each  must  be  kept  up  in  order  for  the  other  to  be 
stimulated  to  proper  activity,  especially  during  youth  when  the 


HEREDITARY  CHARACTERISTICS  237 

habits  of  the  organism,  are  being  formed.  Endurance  on  the 
one  hand  and  strength  and  agility  as  well  as  enterprise  and 
mental  activity  on  the  other  are  functions  of  metabolism. 

This  is  not  meant  to  imply  that  differences  in  temperament 
are  mere  questions  of  balance  between  two  tendencies,  which 
are  called  anabolism  and  katabolism.  On  the  contrary,  the 
factors  which  enter  into  temperamental  differences  as  above 
indicated  are  numerous  and  obscure ;  it  may  be  that  they  are 
as  numerous  as  the  bodily  organs,  having  each  its  specific 
function,  and  its  own  specific  chemical  product.  And  just  as 
the  botanist  believes  that  the  arrival  of  a  chemical  determinant 
causes  what  would  have  been  only  a  bunch  of  leaves  to  grow 
into  flower  and  fruit,  so  the  determinants  supplied  by  the  va- 
rious organs  of  the  body  appear  to  transform  the  feelings, 
thoughts  and  actions  of  men.  Differences  in  temperament 
appear  as  differences  in  the  urgency  of  instincts  and  in  mental 
and  emotional  or  motor  tendency.1 

One  trait  that  might  have  been  mentioned  in  the  foregoing 
enumeration  of  inborn  characteristics  has  been  omitted, 
and  that  is  "independence  of  character."  The  reason  for 
omitting  it  is  that  it  is  compounded  of  elements  that  have 
already  been  mentioned;  and  what  we  recognize  as  inde- 
pendence varies  in  all  degrees  between  baseness  and  nobility 
according  to  the  elements  of  which  it  is  composed  and  the  pro- 
portions in  which  they  .unite.  Thus  the  born  criminal  is  inde- 
pendent of  the  judgments  of  society  through  social  insensibil- 
ity. The  domineering  tendency,  the  obverse  side  of  which  is 
hatred  of  being  bossed,  when  uncoupled  with  intelligence  and 
social  sensibility,  leads  to  mere  obstinacy  and  contrariness. 
Strong  katabolism  increases  the  dangerousness  of  social  in- 
sensibility and  the  domineering  rebellious  tendency,  but  also 

1  Certain  sociologists  have  sought  to  identify  social  types  charac- 
terized by  a  combination  of  traits,  instinctive,  cerebroneural,  and  tem- 
peramental, complicated  further  by  the  results  of  postnatal  influ- 
ences. The  most  interesting  of  these  attempts  are  those  of  Ratzen- 
hofer:  Die  sociologische  Erkenntnis.  Brockhaus,  Leipzig,  1898,  p.  260; 
and  of  Giddings :  Inductive  Sociology.  Macmillan,  igoi,  pp.  74-90; 
and  Descriptive  and  Historical  Sociology.  Macmillan,  1906,  pp.  195, 
209,  214,  236. 


238  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

increases  the  usefulness  of  independence  of  character  in  its 
nobler  forms.  A  courageous  temperament  reenforces  inde- 
pendence. Great  social  sensitiveness  may  make  the  independ- 
ent person  suffer,  yet  even  this  and  all  the  nobler  qualities 
may  unite  with  the  domineering  tendency  and  glorify  it.  And 
it  is  also  true  that  without  particular  strength  of  the  domineer- 
ing tendency,  altruism,  humanistic  estheticism,  high  mental 
organization,  and  central  control  may  produce  independence 
of  character ;  for  the  man  who  clearly  sees  the  ideal  that  ought 
to  be  realized  in  conduct  and  adequately  appreciates  it  and  who 
is  guided  and  impelled  by  his  own  inward  light  and  fire,  will 
show  great  independence  of  character  when  the  occasion  de- 
mands it. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

OTHER  HEREDITARY  CHARACTERISTICS  OF  POPULATION. 
RACE.    EUGENICS 

Eace. — Race  is  not  a  new  kind  of  variable,  but  a  particular 
combination  of  the  variables  already  enumerated.  There  are 
many  varieties  of  the  human  species,  marked  by  striking  dif- 
ferences in  external  appearance.  Mere  blackness  of  skin  may 
be  an  excellence,  a  biological  adaptation,  in  the  inhabitants  of 
a  torrid  super-lighted  region.  And  each  race  tends  to  find 
beauty  in  its  own  type  and  to  prefer  it  over  other  types/  The 
more  complex  a  reality  is,  the  more  it  can  vary  and  tends  to 
vary,  and  as  the  brain  and  nervous  system  are  enormously 
more  complex  than  the  features,  it  would  be  natural  to  expect 
the  psychic  traits  of  races  to  be  at  least  as  diverse  as  their 
faces.  But  while  there  are  racial  differences  in  organization  of 
brain  and  nerves  yet  these  differences  are  by  no  means  so 
great  as  the  complexity  of  these  structures  might  lead  us  to 
expect,  because  cerebro-neural  organization  is  the  biological 
specialty  of  the  genus  homo,  in  all  of  its  species  or  varieties, 
and  the  requirements  of  survival  eliminate  mental  defects  more 
certainly  than  they  do  mere  external  peculiarities.  It  is  some- 
times said  that  while  races  differ  in  mental  and  emotional  char- 
acteristics these  differences  are  compensatory,  so  that  for  every 
disadvantage  that  a  race  has  it  has  also  a  superiority,  and  for 
every  superiority  it  has  also  a  disadvantage  with  the  result 
that  on  the  whole  all  races  of  man  are  equal.  It  may  be  quite 
true  that  each  race  has  points  both  of  superiority  and  of  in- 
feriority, but  that  all  these  differences  should  be  arranged  in  a 
nice  compensatory  system  is,  according  to  the  law  of  proba- 
bilities, incredible.  We  must  admit  that  there  are  superior 
and  inferior  varieties  of  the  human  genus,  although  the  dif- 

239 


240 


INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 


ferences  between  the  races  are  by  no  means  so  wide  as  is 
usually  imagined. 

If  a  perpendicular  line  mn  be  drawn  to  represent  the 
number  of  individuals  in  any  race  who  have  the  degree  of 
capacity  that  is  oftenest  found  among  that  people,  and  other 
lines  to  the  right  of  it  to  represent  the  number  of  persons  of 
superior  capacity,  these  lines  growing  shorter  and  shorter  to 
represent  the  numbers  possessing  rarer  degrees  of  endowment 
until  at  last  a  point  is  reached  to  represent  the  supreme  ex- 
ample of  that  race,  and  if  similar  lines  were  drawn  to  the  left 
of  mn  to  represent  the  numbers  possessed  of  decreasing  de- 
grees of  endowment  down  to  the  zero  of  idiocy,  and  the  upper 


end  of  all  these  lines  were  joined,  a  curve  like  that  in  the  ac- 
companying figure  would  result. 

If  the  curve  so  constructed  to  represent  the  endowment  of 
a  million  members  of  one  of  the  highest  races  were  superim- 
posed upon  the  curve  constructed  to  represent  the  endowment 
of  the  same  number  of  one  of  the  lower  races — taking,  say, 
1,000,000  Anglo-Saxons  and  1,000,000  Congo  Negroes,  so  that 
the  perpendiculars  representing  individuals  of  equal  capacity 
in  both  races  would  rise  from  the  same  point  in  the  line  af — 
something  more  or  less  accurately  resembling  the  second  figure 
would  result.  Our  knowledge  is  by  no  means  sufficient  to 
enable  us  to  draw  the  figure  with  entire  accuracy,  but  such 
knowledge  as  we  have  may  be  expressed  by  such  a  comparison. 
The  chief  inaccuracy  would  follow  from  the  fact  that  the 


RACE  AND  EUGENICS 


241 


qualities  of  the  two  races  would  not  be  exactly  commensur- 
able and  men  treated  as  on  the  whole  equal  would  not  have 
exactly  the  same  qualities. 

An  idiot  would  be  an  idiot  in  either  case ;  idiots  are  in  the 
triangle  abc.  Only  those  members  of  the  superior  race  repre- 
sented by  the  triangle  def  would  be  biologically  superior  to  all 
of  the  members  of  the  inferior  race.  Those  commonplace 
individuals  who  are  represented  by  the  line  gh  would  find 
exactly  the  same  number  of  their  biological  equals  in  either 
race.  The  great  mass  of  the  two  races  represented  by  the 
area  B  are  biologically  equal.  The  difference  between  the 
two  is  represented  by  the  figure  C,  an  extra  mass  of  inferiority 


in  the  lower  race,  and  A,  an  extra  body  of  the  superior  in 
the  higher  race.  The  superior  race  contains  members  of  every 
degree  of  inferiority,  but  it  has  not  so  large  a  proportion  of 
the  inferior.  Thus  of  the  low-grade  individuals  represented 
by  the  perpendicular  erected  at  j  the  lower  race  has  more  than 
twice  as  many  as  the  higher.  And  the  lower  race  is  by  no 
means  without  superior  individuals.  Thus  of  the  talented 
represented  by  the  perpendicular  erected  at  k  the  lower  race 
has  a  goodly  number,  although  there  are  fewer  than  are  found 
in  the  other  race;  and  it  has  none  of  the  supreme  geniuses 
represented  by  the  area  def.  Notwithstanding  that  the  great 
masses  of  the  two  races  represented  by  the  area  B  are  biologi- 
cally equal,  the  possession  by  the  superior  race  of  the  extra 
mass  of  talented  members  represented  by  A  and  especially  its 


242  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

monopoly  of  the  geniuses  will  result  in  great  cultural  differ- 
ences, for  the  advancement  of  a  people  is  originated  by  a  small 
but  talented  minority.  A  common  man  may  be  a  good  Chris- 
tian, but  only  if  there  have  been  prophets.  A  common  man 
may  be  a  patriot,  but  there  must  have  been  political  geniuses, 
a  common  man  may  wear  good  clothes,  but  it  was  not  he  that 
invented  the  power  loom  and  the  spinning  Jenny.  A  race  that 
lacks  this  upper  one  per  cent,  must  borrow  many  of  the 
higher  elements  of  culture.  It  must  be  borne  in  mind 
that  the  quality  of  a  race,  as  of  an  individual,  is  not  to  be 
measured  in  terms  of  intellect  alone,  but  also  of  will  and  sensi- 
bility. 

Racial  as  Distinguished  from  Cultural  Differences. — Con- 
cerning the  characteristic  differences  between  races,  it  is  diffi- 
cult to  particularize  further  than  has  already  been  done  in 
discussing  the  topics  of  this  chapter.  Their  beliefs,  tastes, 
and  conduct  show  striking  contrasts,  but  it  is  exceedingly 
hard  to  say  with  scientific  probability  how  far  these  differ- 
ences are  due  to  race  and  how  far  to  other  causes.  Popular 
judgment  promptly  and  superficially  ascribes  such  contrasts  to 
differences  of  race,  because  differences  of  race  are  thought 
to  be  known,  while  the  other  causes  are  remote,  obscure, 
elusive,  and  largely  unknown.  People  of  the  same  race,  how- 
ever, show  marked  social  contrasts.  For  example,  the  Bo- 
hemian Czechs,  the  Hungarian  Slovaks,  and  the  Poles  who 
come  to  this  country  in  great  numbers,  are  all  Slavs  and  all 
belong,  moreover,  to  the  western  subdivision  of  the  Slavs.1 
Yet,  their  esthetic,  mental,  and  moral  traits  appear  to  be  in 
wide  and  marked  contrast.  The  differences  between  their  ac- 
tivities are  due  to  social  and  not  to  biological  causes  and  show 
that  in  response  to  differing  conditions  the  same  race  is  ca- 
pable of  varying  its  social  life  within  wide  limits.  The  same 
racial  group  may  also  show  similar  contrasts  at  different 
stages  of  its  history.  The  Catcs*  and  those  members  of  the 
Roman  mob  that  in  the  time  of  the  civil  war  when  Marius 
threw  open  the  houses  of  the  defeated  faction,  refused  to 
pillage,  and  the  roman  matrons  of  the  earlier  time,  were  the 

1Deniker:    Races  of  Men,    Scribners,  1904,  p.  344. 


RACE  AND  EUGENICS  243 

parents  of  the  thieving  and  licentious  Romans  of  the  later 
empire. 

Every  race  tends  to  claim  that  whatever  cultural  superiority 
it  may  possess  is  due  to  racial  excellence.  But  science  must 
distinguish  clearly  between  cultural  advancement  and  racial 
excellence.  Racial  ability  is  only  one  of  the  causes,  and  never 
the  sole  cause,  of  cultural  progress.  The  fact  probably  is  that 
each  of  the  races  that  is,  or  has  been,  the  bearer  of  a  high  civi- 
lization is  developed  up  to  or  near  the  limit  of  possible  advan- 
tageous variation,  each  differing  from  the  other  slightly  in  the 
direction  which  its  development  has  taken,  but  each  having  car- 
ried its  particular  type  of  development  to  the  limit  beyond  which 
lies  insanity  and  various  forms  of  nervous  breakdown.  The^ 
Chaldeans  and  the  Egyptians  were  civilized  when  our  own  an- 
cestors were  wild  and  ignorant  savages.  The  change  in  relative 
position  is  probably  due,  in  very  slight  degree,  if  at  all,  to  es- 
sential changes  in  the  inborn  characteristics  of  healthy  and 
normal  members  of  the  races,  but  rather  to  causes  of  other 
kinds  which  the  sociologist  must  learn  to  recognize.  We 
may  to-day  boast  our  superiority  over  the  Egyptians  and 
even  the  Greeks,  but  we  can  by  no  means  prove  that  it  is  a 
superiority  of  race.  And  as  Chaldeans,  Egyptians,  and  Greeks 
erred  in  assuming  that  they  were  by  race  superior  to  the  sav- 
ages of  their  day  among  whom  our  own  ancestors  were  in- 
cluded, so  we  also  may  err  if  we  take  it  for  granted  that  we 
are  biologically  above  every  existing  savage  tribe.  Every 
savage  people,  when  sympathetically  understood,  reveals  great 
powers.  Among  the  causes  that  produce  an  elevated  conscious 
life  complex  biological  capacities  are  fundamental  and  essen- 
tial, but  they  are  only  one  in  a  combination  of  causes  required 
to  explain  the  different  degrees  of  social  advancement. 

The  descendants  of  Europeans  and  Africans  living  side  by 
side  in  the  United  States  are  separated  by  social  differences 
wider  than  the  differences  in  natural  endowment.  This  is 
because  the  motives,  encouragements,  and  deterrents  held  out 
to  the  two  races  are  not  equal.  The  prizes  of  life  are  not  of- 
fered to  the  Negro  in  the  same  degree  and  on  the  same  terms 
as  to  the  white  man.  Neither  is  the  penalty  of  disgrace  so 


244  mTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

heavy;  moreover,  the  cultural  advantages  by  which  they  are 
surrounded  are  by  no  means  equal. 

There  are  true  racial  distinctions  even  between  Euro- 
pean peoples,  some  items  of  which  have  been  noted  in  earlier 
paragraphs.  Yet,  it  must  be  held  in  mind  that  differences  be- 
tween individuals  of  the  same  race  are  far  greater  than  the 
differences  between  races  considered  as  wholes,  and  further- 
more, that  acquired  differences  and  resemblances  due  to  in- 
heritance from  ancient  streams  of  social  evolution,  and  lifelong 
response  to  social  environments  which  press  upon  individuals 
from  infancy  onward,  may  greatly  obscure  inborn  differences 
and  resemblances,  and  may  produce  between  individuals  and 
between  social  groups,  including  nations,  differences  and  re- 
semblances which  are  by  no  means  due  to  determiners  in  the 
germ  cells.  Patriotic  pride  and  partisanship  tend  to  exag- 
gerate enormously  supposed  racial  differences,  both  by  im- 
agining superiorities  that  do  not  exist,  and  by  attributing  real 
superiorities  of  group  character  to  racial  disparity  alone 
when  they  are  in  fact  largely  or  wholly  due  to  other  causes. 

Ages. — Among  the  biological  differences  determined  at 
birth  which  have  important  social  consequences  must  be 
reckoned  differences  in  age.  A  newly  immigrated  population 
contains  a  larger  proportion  of  persons  in  active  middle  life, 
and  fewer  children  and  aged  persons.  We  have  already  seen 
that  a  city  contains  a  larger  proportion  of  persons  in  these 
years  of  life  than  does  the  country.  In  a  population  where 
these  age  conditions  prevail,  activities  will  show  greater  energy 
and  power  as  well  as  a  higher  rate  of  vice  and  crime.  The 
supposed  high  percentage  of  criminals  among  the  immigrants 
to  this  country  is  due  to  this  cause.  Doubtless  criminals  do 
immigrate,  and  pains  should  be  taken  to  exclude  them.  Yet 
the  fact  that  there  are  more  criminals  among  100,000  immi- 
grants than  among  the  same  number  of  the  native-born  does 
not  prove  the  greater  criminality  of  the  newcomers,  since 
there  are  comparatively  few  children  and  old  people  among 
them,  and  a  larger  number  of  persons  in  the  ages  at  which 
crime  is  most  likely  to  occur.  And  if  we  compare  100,000 
immigrant  men  between  the  years  of  17  and  45  with  the  same 


^  RACE  AND  EUGENICS  245 

number  of  native-born  men  of  the  same  ages,  it  will  be  found 
that  the  latter  include  a  larger  number  of  criminals  than  do 
the  men  who  have  just  come  to  our  shores.  The  habits  of 
immigrants  were  formed  in  an  ancient  civilization  where  the 
agencies  of  social  control  were  strong.  It  is  the  children  of 
the  immigrants  and  not  the  immigrants  themselves  that  swell 
our  percentage  of  criminality  more  than  any  other  class,  ex- 
cept the  Negroes.  The  children  of  immigrants,  tempted  to 
render  too  little  obedience  and  respect  to  parents  who  are  less 
proficient  in  the  language  and  manners  of  their  new  environ- 
ment than  are  the  children  themselves,  largely  freed  from  the 
social  influences  that  molded  the  lives  of  their  parents,  and 
exposed  to  the  worst  aspects  of  American  civilization  in  the 
slums  of  great  cities,  show  a  high  percentage  of  criminality. 

Sex. — Men  are  more  aggressive  or  katabolic  than  women 
and  bolder  except  when  women  act  under  a  personal  motive, 
particularly  the  maternal  instinct.  Accordingly  men  are  far 
more  prone  to  crime;  in  fact,  about  five  times  as  many  men 
as  women  become  criminals.  Women  under  similar  circum- 
stances become  prostitutes. 

A  newly  immigrated  population  usually  has  a  much  higher 
percentage  of  men,  especially  so  long  as  pioneer  conditions 
continue,  while  under  settled  conditions  women  tend  to  be 
slightly  more  numerous  than  men,1  though  as  many  male  in- 
fants as  female  are  born. 

In  the  discussion  of  temperaments  and  of  instincts  atten- 
tion has  already  been  called  to  several  of  the  differences  be- 
tween the  inborn  traits  of  men  and  women.  Beyond  doubt 

1In  Massachusetts  females  'slightly  outnumber  males,  while  in 
Montana  males  constitute  nearly  two-thirds  of  the  population.  On 
the  other  hand,  in  the  total  population  of  the  United  States  there  are 
to  every  100  females  106  males ;  among  the  native  whites,  102.7  males ; 
among  the  foreign-born,  129.2  males.  In  most  European  countries, 
females  outnumber  males,  the  ratio  in  England  being  93.7  males  to  100 
females.  The  excess  of  males  over,  females  in  the  United  States  is 
considerably  greater  in  the  country  than  in  the  cities,  notwithstanding 
the  accumulation  of  immigrant  men  in  cities.  This  is  thought  to  be  due 
to  the  opportunities  for  employment  of  women  in  cities,  in  factories, 
offices,  etc. 


246  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

the  most  fundamental  biological  differentiation  and  the  one 
that  is  most  profoundly  significant  as  a  condition  affecting 
social  life  is  the  difference  between  the  sexes.  The  difference 
is  far  more  thoroughgoing  than  a  mere  physical  division  of 
labor  in  continuing  the  race.  I  believe  that  no  observant 
person  who  has  had  much  experience  with  little  children  is 
likely  to  think  that  the  psychological  differences  between  the 
sexes  are  due  merely  to  social  suggestion.  Although  the  di- 
rection and  degree  of  contrasting  personal  development  is 
largely  affected  by  the  latter  influences,  there  are  also  deep- 
seated  differences  in  psychoneural  tendency.  Man  and  woman, 
of  course,  have  very  much  in  common,  but  they  are  comple- 
mentary rather  than  identical.  They  are  adapted  to  play  dif- 
ferent roles.  It  is  unprofitable  to  discuss  the  question,  which 
is  superior  to  the  other ;  each  is  superior  to  what  it  would  be 
if  it  were  more  like  the  other,  for  each  is  superior  to  the  other 
lor  its  own  mission.  Differentiation  is  the  prime  essential  of 
organic  progress,  stages  of  evolution  are  measured  by  degrees 
of  progress  away  from  homogeneity  through  progressive  dif- 
ferentiation. In  general  the  obliteration  of  functional  differ- 
entiation would  not  be  progress  but  degeneracy;  and  the  at- 
tempt to  bring  about  homogeneity  of  the  sexes  and  their  life 
may  be  judged  in  the  light  of  these  facts.  Every  new  move- 
ment is  likely  to  imitate  an  earlier  one  that  has  already  suc- 
ceeded, until  it  has  time  to  evolve  an  ideal  of  its  own.  This 
has  been  true  of  the  feminist  movement  in  its  tendency  to 
imitate  masculine  successes. 

Woman  should  share  all  intellectual  and  esthetic  interests. 
That  implies  liberal  education.  She  requires  less  than  man 
the  spur  of  severely  competitive  rank  to  make  her  do  her  ut- 
most in  school  work.  Certainly  the  effect  upon  her  of  these 
forms  of  stimulation  is  different  from  its  effect  upon 
men.  Not  that  this  difference  or  others  between  the  life  of 
the  sexes  is  by  any  means  absolute ;  it  is  more  like  the  differ- 
ences between  races.  This  difference  in  sensitiveness  to  marks 
and  competition  is  an  exhibition  of  the  difference  in  sensitive- 
ness to  social  approval  and  disapproval  which  was  referred  to 
in  discussing  the  social  instincts. 


RACE  AND  EUGENICS  247 

Chivalry. — Chivalry  is  not  an  insult  to  woman,  nor  an 
assumption  of  superiority  on  the  part  of  man;  it  is  the  ex- 
pression of  reason  and  right  feeling.  A  young  woman  in 
perfect  bloom  of  health  may  be  permanently  injured  by  strap- 
hanging  on  street  cars.  Not  so  her  brother.  Work  in  the 
house  lacks  the  variety  and  freedom  and  stimulus  of  wider 
contacts.  It  would  be  an  immolation  if  it  were  not  prompted 
by  love  of  those  for  whom  it  is  performed,  that  love  should 
elicit  appreciation  and  answering  love.  Chivalry  is  the  right 
of  woman  and  it  is  good  for  man.  He  cannot  be  a  proper 
man  without  it.  Woman  because  she  is  a  woman  and  man  be- 
cause he  is  a  man  should  stand  in  an  ideal  relation  to  each 
other. 

By  an  ideal  relation  I  do  not  mean  a  fantastic  one,  but 
simply  one  that  gives  outward  expression  to  a  rational  judg- 
ment and  an  esthetic  approval.  With  reference  to  a  subject 
so  all-pervasive  and  so  fundamental  to  human  happiness  no 
society  and  no  individual  should  be  without  a  chosen  concept, 
a  standard,  a  deliberately  approved  ideal  in  the  sense  just 
defined.  Every  specimen  of  the  genus  Homo  is  an  animal,  but 
cannot.be  a  man  or  a  woman  without  such  ideals.  Though 
the  libertine  may  find  it  hard  to  believe,  yet  it  is  true  that  the 
pleasure  of  association  between  the  sexes  is  immeasurably 
heightened  when  it  is  conducted  on  the  ideal  plane,  when 
caresses  have  measureless  meaning  and  so  can  never  be  used 
save  when  those  measureless  meanings  are  to  be  expressed 
which  unite  lives  in  the  most  permanent  and  precious  relation- 
ships. The  full  value  of  life  is  only  for  the  strong.  A  large 
proportion  of  the  negative  failure  to  realize  the  best  in  friend- 
ship and  in  marriage  and  also  of  the  positive  wretchedness  and 
woe  that  blacken  the  world  are  due  to  weakness  here.  The 
woman  who,  though  never  immoral,  yet  by  a  freedom  which  she 
regards  as  innocent,  teaches  men  to  hold  the  marks  of  woman's 
favor  cheap  is  a  traitor  to  her  sex  and  a  peril  to  man.  En- 
gagement is  the  sacredest  vow  that  ever  passes  human  lips. 
In  rare  cases  it  may  honestly  be  unsaid;  nevertheless,  it  is 
more  sacred  than  marriage  itself,  for  the  latter,  though  i\ 
brings  new  possibilities  and  new  duties,  is  after  all  the  formal 


248  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

and  public  avowal  of  that  covenant  which  has  already  been 
made  in  secret. 

Hereditary  Defects. — Up  to  this  point  in  the  present  chap- 
ter we  have  been  discussing  the  inborn  differences  between 
normal  human  beings,  but  there  are  human  beings,  and  their 
aggregate  number  is  great,  who  are  born  with  serious  abnor- 
malities, and  these  abnormalities  are  responsible  for  a  large 
fraction  of  the  most  lamentable  social  failures,  including  much 
of  the  poverty,  vice,  and  crime.  According  to  responsible 
figures  published  in  1910,  which  are  probably  within  the  mark, 
we  have  in  this  country  300,000  insane  and  feeble-minded, 
160,000  blind  and  deaf,  2,000,000  that  are  annually  cared  for 
in  hospitals  and  homes.  Our  annual  public  expenditures  for 
the  care  of  defectives  reaches  nearly  $100,000,000.  There 
are  besides  at  least  80,000  felons  in  prisons,  a  larger  number 
of  misdemeanants  in  jails  and  lockups,  and  a  still  larger  num- 
ber of  these  classes  at  large  in  society,  while  in  ordinary  times 
about  4,000,000  a  year  are  recipients  of  charity.  By  no 
means  all  of  the  defectives  and  still  less  of  the  criminals  and 
paupers  are  defective  by  heredity,  yet  a  great  proportion  of 
them  are  so. 

Hereditary  defects  are  of  two  kinds  :  first,  those  rare  freaks 
of  nature  which  can  no  more  be  predicted  or  accounted  for 
than  the  appearance  of  genius,  yet  some  types  of  which  when 
once  they  have  appeared  have  power  to  recur  for  generations ; 
second,  hereditary  defects  which  are  due  to  assignable  causes. 
Of  these  known  causes  of  hereditary  defect  by  far  the  most 
productive  of  evils  are  alcoholism  and  venereal  disease:  These 
two  poisons  so  pervade  the  organism  as  to  impair  the  germ 
cells  that  reside  in  the  body  of  one  who  may  later  become  a 
parent,  so  as  to  inhibit  the  normal  development  of  offspring. 
Similar  results  are  probably  occasionally,  though  much  more 
rarely,  caused  by  saturating  the  body  with  other  poisons,  such 
as  nicotin,  hydrocyanic  acid,  lead,  and  others  which  are  used 
in  factories  where  men  spend  their  working  days. 

The  forms  of  congenital  abnormality  which  are  of  great- 
est social  impprtance  include  the  tendency  to  various  types 
of  insanity,  certain  defects  of  the  eyes,  deaf-mutism,  epilepsy, 


RACE  AND  EUGENICS  249 

inability  of  one  or  another  of  the  vital  organs  to  resist  disease, 
and  feeble-mindedness. 

Certain  defects  of  the  eyes  are  properly  included  in  this 
list,  but  most  of  those  supposed  to  be  born  blind  are  in  reality 
victims  of  ophthalmia  neonatorum.  This  is  held  responsible 
for  from  20  to  30  per  cent,  of  all  the  blindness  in  the  world 
and  is  not  hereditary  but  is  due  to  infection  of  the  eyes  at 
birth  from  gonorrhea.  It  is  preventable  by  the  application  at 
birth  of  a  2  per  cent,  solution  of  nitrate  of  silver  directly  to 
the  cornea  of  the  eyes.  The  majority  of  physicians  have  been 
neglectful  of  this  preventive. 

We  have  seen  that  germ  diseases  are  not  inherited  in  the 
strict  sense  of  that  word,  but  an  inability  to  resist  the  attacks 
of  disease  upon  one  or  another  of  the  organs  is  truly  heritable. 
Thus,  for  example,  tuberculosis  of  the  lungs,  which  is  the 
cause  of  more  than  10  per  cent,  of  the  deaths  in  the  United 
States,  is  not  inheritable;  but  Professor  Davenport  declares, 
"It  would  not  be  difficult  to  pick  out  of  my  collection  ten 
families  comprising  about  one  hundred  deceased  persons 
among  whom,  instead  of  the  expected  ten,  not  one  dies  of  con- 
sumption. Similarly  there  are  many  families  in  which  no 
nervous  disease  has  occurred  in  three  generations,  others 
without  kidney  diseases  and  so  on.  On  the  other  hand,  in 
other  families  40  to  50  per  cent,  or  even  80  per  cent,  are 
attacked  by  lung  and  throat  troubles,  or  nervous  defects.  These 
differences  cannot  be  attributed  chiefly  to  environment,  because 
they  occur  in  families  of  which  the  members  are  widely  dis- 
persed and  have  varied  occupations.  They  indicate  funda- 
mental differences  in  the  protoplasm."  (Eugenics,  page  20.) 

Feeble-mindedness. — Feeble-mindedness  is  the  commonest 
form  of  blighting  hereditary  abnormality.  One  highly  rep- 
utable authority  avers  that  "upon  the  most  conservative  es- 
timates 25  per  cent,  of  alcoholism,  of  pauperism,  and  of  prosti- 
tution, is  due  to  feeble-mindedness,"  and  adds  the  opinion 
that  this  percentage  is  much  too  low  to  represent  the  fact. 
Feeble-mindedness  may  be  caused  after  birth  by  illness  or 
otherwise,  but  probably  fully  two-thirds  of  the  cases  are  due 
to  specific  hereditary  defect. 


250  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

Investigations  in  the  United  States  and  in  England,  Scot- 
land, and  Ireland,  indicate  that  it  is  conservative  to  estimate 
one  feeble-minded  individual  to  each  300  of  the  population. 

By  application  of  the  Binet  tests  it  is  possible  to  recognize 
the  feeble-minded  child  before,  in  meeting  the  rude  practical 
tests  of  life,  he  has  been  made  to  suffer  severely  or  has  be- 
come a  cause  of  injury  to  others. 

The  application  of  psychological  tests  to  1,547  children  of 
one  school  system  in  the  United  States  showed  78  per  cent,  to 
be  either  normal  or  not  more  than  one  year  above  or  below 
the  normal  development  for  their  age.  Three  per  cent,  were 
ranked  as  more  than  three  years  behind  the  normal  develop- 
ment and  were  considered  feeble-minded,  15  per  cent,  were 
retarded  two  or  three  years,  and  the  remaining  4  per  cent, 
were  precocious.  Similarly  Binet  found  in  France  that  of 
203  children,  103  graded  at  age,  44  one  year  below,  42  one 
year  above,  12  two  years  below,  and  2  two  years  above.  These 
tests  apply  not  to  the  attainments  of  the  child  in  school  work, 
which  may  be  dependent  on  attention  and  other  elements  than 
natural  endowment,  but  relate  to  natural  endowment  exclu- 
sively, and  are  intended  to  test  all  the  intellectual  faculties  of 
the  child  and  to  give  an  idea  of  his  intelligence  as  a  whole. 
A  child  of  ten  may  have  the  mental  development  proper  to  a 
child  of  three,  and  be  able  to  profit  only  by  methods  of  in- 
struction adapted  to  the  ordinary  child  of  three.  These,  in- 
vestigations seem  to  show  that  the  vast  majority  of  individuals 
are  born  with  a  medium  or  normal  natural  development. 
But  of  600  children  appearing  before  the  Chicago  Juvenile 
Court  more  than  26  per  cent,  were  feeble-minded.  Of  36,710 
prisoners  in  Scotland,  2,500  were  weak-minded  or  mentally 
unstable.  Of  800  admitted  to  Elmira  Reformatory,  New  York, 
43  per  cent,  were  mentally  diseased  and  37  per  cent,  mentally 
deficient.  There  is  much  more  evidence  to  the  same  effect. 

The  feeble-minded  are  persons  mentally  deficient  from 
birth  or  from  early  infancy  to  any  degree  that  prevents  them 
from  competing  on  equal  terms  with  normal  individuals  and 
from  managing  their  own  affairs  with  ordinary  prudence. 
They  are  divisible  into  three  classes: 


RACE  AND  EUGENICS  251 

1.  Idiots  never  reach  mentality  equal  to  that  of  the  normal 
three-year-old  child.     They  have  no  use  or  understanding  of 
language.    Perhaps  10  per  cent,  of  feeble-minded  persons  are 
idiots. 

2.  Imbeciles  can  talk,  play  and  do  some  kinds  of  useful 
work,  but  do  not  advance  mentally  beyond  a  child  of  seven 
years,  and  rarely  learn  to  read  or  write. 

3.  Morons  learn  to  read  and  write  and  work  sufficiently  to 
earn  a  good  living  in  an  institution,  but  are  not  capable  of 
doing  so  without  the  supervision  and  protection  afforded  by 
the  institution.    They  are  very  suggestible,  easily  led,  incapable 
of  resisting  temptation. 

The  feeble-minded  are  children,  whatever  their  age.  They 
have,  as  a  rule,  large  families  and  propagate  their  kind.  Isola- 
tion of  all  feeble-minded  persons  would  be  costly  but  would 
greatly  reduce  the  amount  required  for  prisons  and  alms- 
houses.  Moreover,  the  morons,  or  working  class  of  inmates, 
would  make  up  the  chief  addition  to  the  institutional  popula- 
tion and  they  would  nearly  support  themselves  under  institu- 
tional supervision,  so  that  the  cost  of  their  care  would  be 
comparatively  slight  and  the  service  to  society  from  their 
segregation  would  be  incalculably  great.  They  themselves 
would  be  happy,  for  they  are  easily  made  so,  instead  of  miser- 
able and  abused.  And  the  burden  of  society  in  the  next  gen- 
eration, in  criminals  and  paupers,  would  be  diminished.  At 
present  society  is  giving  proper  care  to  only  a  small  fraction 
of  its  feeble-minded  children.  A  very  considerable  proportion 
are  confined  as  criminals  and  delinquents  in  reformatories  and 
prisons  which  with  proper  care  they  would  have  escaped.  A 
great  number  are  at  large,  at  peril  to  themselves  and  a  menace 
to  society.  So  long  as  our  colonies  for  the  feeble-minded  are 
inadequate  for'the  proper  accommodation  of  all,  it  is  impor- 
tant that  preference  should  be  given  to  the  admission  of  fe- 
males, especially  to  the  morons  and  high-grade  imbeciles,  who 
are  otherwise  subject  to  vicious  abuse  and  who  will  otherwise 
multiply  and  perpetuate  their  kind. 

Retarded  Children. — The  retarded  children  in  our  public 
schools,  great  boys  and  girls  of  thirteen  and  fourteen,  who 


252  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

are  in  grades  with  children  of  half  or  two-thirds  their  years, 
may  be  feeble-minded.  This,  however,  is  by  no  means  always 
the  case.  They  may  be  the  victims  of  defective  vision  or  hear- 
ing or  of  adenoids  disturbing  their  breathing  or  of  other  non- 
neural  defects,  frequently  removable.  Their  backwardness 
may  be  due  to  bad  home  conditions  resulting  in  irregular  at- 
tendance, to  lack  of  proper  nutrition,  to  lack  of  sleep,  or  to 
overwork  out  of  school.  Of  course,  the  cause  of  their  back- 
wardness should  be  removed  if  possible.  If  actually  feeble- 
minded they  should  be  removed  to  special  institutions.  There 
will  still  be  a  remainder  of  permanently  or  temporarily  re- 
tarded pupils  in  the  large  communities,  who  require  a  special 
school  or  room  with  an  able  teacher  and  adapted  occupational 
training.  If  they  remain  with  the  regular  grades  they  are 
likely  to  lose  social  standing  and,  with  it,  self-respect,  and  to 
abandon  themselves  to  the  careers  of  outcasts  and  pariahs, 
rinding  their  way  into  haunts  of  vice  and  penal  institu- 
tions. But  they  can  often  excel  at  some  particular  occu- 
pation, and  if  brought  into  competition  with  their  equals 
under  a  wise  teacher,  may  develop  into  self-respecting  citi- 
zens. 

Backward  children  illustrate  the  fact  that  dullness  in  one 
kind  of  work  does  not  necessarily  imply  incompetence  in  all 
kinds  of  work.  And  at  the  other  extreme  great  ability  in  one 
direction  is  not  sure  to  be  accompanied  by  great  ability  in  other 
directions. 

General  excellence  seems  often  to  be  due  largely  to  en- 
couraging home  environment  and  to  the  habit  of  expecting 
well  of  oneself,  which  induces  a  psychological  attitude  in 
which  good  results,  otherwise  impossible,  come  within  the 
compass  of  one's  powers. 

Biology  and  Caste. — The  facts  of  biology  throw  a  strong 
light  upon  the  social  ideas  and  sentiments  that  establish  caste. 

-i.  Who  is  thoroughbred?  In  the  most  carefully  guarded 
strains  some  admixture  creeps  in ;  and  this  is  likely  to  be  their 
salvation  from  degeneracy.  "Each  individual  is  descended 
from  two  parents,  four  grandparents,  and  eight  great-grand- 
parents ;  and  continuing  this  geometric  progression  for  thirty 


RACE  AND  EUGENICS  253 

generations,  it  has  been  calculated x  that  if  there  had  been  no 
recrossing  of  strains  to  make  the  same  ancestors  count  more 
than  once,  a  child  of  to-day  would  have  had  in  the  time  of 
William  the  Conqueror,  8,598,094,592  living  ancestors.  With 
all  the  recrossing  to  diminish  that  number  there  is  still  chance 
enough  to  have  had  a  king  and  also  a  dozen  idiots  or  criminals 
from  whom  some  of  the  many  interlaced  strains  have  sprung. 
How  many  generations  of  ancestors  make  significant  contribu- 
tions to  each  germ  cell  we  do  not  know,  but  experience  suffi- 
ciently shows  that  the  complexity  of  inheritance  and  the 
chances  of  variation  are  great. 

2.  Probably  no  two  living  organisms  are  quite  alike,  even 
though  they  spring  from  the  same  parentage.    Puppies  of  the 
same  litter  differ  greatly,  not  only  in  size  and  color,  but  as 
greatly  in  disposition  and  ability. 

3.  Some  of  the  causes  that  produce  congenital  blight  op- 
erate more  commonly  among  the  poor  than  among  the  rich, 
and  degenerates  tend  to  sink  in  the  social  scale. 

4.  Yet,  in  any  given  population  of  any  given  race  the 
vast  majority  of  individuals  of  whatever  social  class  are,  in 
respect  to  natural  endowment,  normal. 

5.  Moreover,  every  social  class  produces  its  share  of  va- 
riants both  up  and  down.    The  upper  classes  have  their  idiots 
and  the  lower  classes  have  geniuses.    The  main  contention  of 
Professor  Ward's  "Applied  Sociology"  is  that  only  a  small 
fraction  of  the  genius  and  high  ability  born  into  society  renders 
to  society  any  notable  service,  all  but  a  small  percentage  be- 
ing lost  by  reason  of  lack  of  proper  education  and  opportu- 
nity.    We  may  discount  his  statement  largely,  if  we  think 
proper,  and  even  then  leave  it  impressively  significant.    In  the 
words  of  Professor  Thomas :    "The  world's  intelligence  largely 
comes  up  out  of  the  lower  through  the  middle  classes.     The 
intelligence  is  there  and  of  the  finest  sort.    Like  opportunity, 
and  that  from  the  cradle,  alone  will  show  who  is  naturally 
superior." 

6.  In  discussing  the  agrarian  aristocracy  and  peasantry 
that  form  as  a  result  of  geographic  conditions,  it  was  pointed 

1  Walter  :    Genetics,  p.  239. 


254  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

out  that  differences  of  appearance,  speech,  manner,  disposi- 
tion, moral  traits,  and  intellectual  attainment,  which  charac- 
terize different  families  through  successive  generations,  are 
largely  not  inborn  but  due  to  differences  of  family  culture 
and  mode  of  life  perpetuated  generation  after  generation.  In 
the  words  of  President  David  Starr  Jordan,1  "We  often  mis- 
take the  bringing  up  of  a  child  for  characters  'bred  in  the, 
bone.'  The  kingly  bearing  of  a  king,  still  more  the  regal  bear- 
ing of  a  queen,  may  be  the  result  of  habit,  not  at  all  of  any 
innate  quality.  To  be  called  a  king  from  childhood  on  makes 
a  boy  hold  up  his  head,  if  he  has  a  head  to  hold.  To  be 
despised  by  men  leads  the  average  man,  or  the  average  dog, 
to  the  habit  of  dodging  and  skulking."  Differences  of  speech, 
manner,  bearing,  thoughts,  occupations,  ideals  and  hopes  that 
result  from  differences  in  daily  surroundings,  education,  and 
opportunity  and  in  the  attitudes  of  associates,  where  condi- 
tions remain  unchanged  for  generations,  may  seem,  even  to  ,< 
the  victims  of  unfortunate  station,  to  be  family  traits  of  blood.  *^ 

The  Method  of  Inheritance. — A  unit  character  is  a"  trait  or 
group  of  traits  of  the  developed  organism  which  is  supposed 
to  result  from  the  presence  of  a  specific  determiner,  a  special 
molecule  or  group  of  molecules2  in  eiie\of  the  germ  cel{s/ 
from  which  the  organism  has  developed.     *^" 

If  a  child  has  dark  eyes  it  is  because  in  the  germ  cell  con- 
tributed by  one  or  the  other  of  his  parents  toward  his  origin 
there  was  a  specific  determiner  3  for  that  unit  character.  We 
cannot  identify  all  of  the  unit  characters  of  a  highly  complex 

1  Heredity  of  Richard  Roe,  p.  26. 

2  A  visible   character   in   the   developed  organism   may   require   a 
combination   of    determiners    in   the   germ   cells,   and   a  trait    may  be 
latent   for   generations    in   a   given   family,    till    by   crossing   there   is 
added  the  determiner  necessary  to  bring  it  out.     Such  occasional  re- 
appearance of  the  latent  quality  we  usually  call  a  "reversion."     Ac- 
cording to  the  law  of  chance  a  few  determiners  are  capable  of  a  vast 
number  of  combinations,  each  of   which  may  appear  in  a  distinctive 
trait  of  the  developed  organism.     Our  purposes   require  a  statement 
of  only  the  simpler  aspects  of  the  Mendelian  law  of  inheritance. 

*  There  are  determiners  both  for  eye  pigment  and  for  the  pattern 
of  its  distribution. 


RACE  AND  EUGENICS  255 

organism,  but  hypothetically  all  that  is  transmitted  byjiered- 
ity,  external  traits  of  stature  and  form,  instincts,^predis- 
positions,  and  temperament,?  is  due  to  particular  determin- 
ers or  particular  combinations  of  determiners  in  the  germ 
cells. 

If  one  parent  cell  has  the  determiner  for  dark  eyes,  and 
the  other  parent  cell  lacks  it,  the  eyes  of  the  offspring  will 
have  dark  pigment.  Of  two  contrasting  hereditary  qualities 
one  which  whenever  present  in  either  parent  triumphs  and 
appears  in  the  offspring  is  called  a  <dc^imajit_im^tjcha£acter  and 
a  contrasting  one  a  recessive  character.  Some  dominant  char- 
acters come  out  j ust  as~  stroTlglyln"  the  developed  organism 
when  "simplex,"  that  is,  when  the  determiner  is  supplied  by 
only  one  of  the  parent  germ  cells,  as  when  "dupjex^  or  con- 
tained by  both  germ  cells,  and  some  do  not,  as  ink  mixed  with 
water  looks  black  as  ink,  but  wine  and  water  does  not  look  red 
as  wine.  The  dark  tendency  triumphs  over  the  blue  tendency 
because  darkness  of  eyes  is  due  to  the  presence  of  a  positive 
determiner  while  blueness  of  eyes  is  a  negative  quality  jlue 
simply  to  the  absence  of  the  pigment  determiner. 

If  the  determiner  for  a  trait  is  present  in  all  the  germ  cells 
of  both  parents  that  trait  must  reappear  in  all  the  offspring; 
if  absent  from  the  germ  cells  of  both  parents  the  trait  cannot 
be  inherited  by  the  offspring.  If  contrasting  tendencies  are 
present  in  the  parents  the  dominant  teh^dencywiiTassert  itself 
in  the  bodies  of  the  offspring  but  of  the  germ  cells  developed 
in  the  bodies  of  these  offspring  one-half  will  carry  the  domi 
nant  while  the  other  will  carry  the  recessive  tendency.  *" 

Among  the  offspring  of  this  mixed  stock  three-fourths 
will  show  the  dominant  trait  and  one-fourth  will  show  the 
recessive  trait.  The  reason  for  this  is  as  follows :  Let  -}-  rep- 
resent the  determiner  for  the  dominant  trait  and  let  —  repre- 
sent the  absence  of  that  determinant.1  Since  each  parent  be- 
longing to  the  mixedjjtQck  has  both  -)-  and  —  germ  cells  the 

1  Whether  the  recessive  tendency  is  represented  in  the  germ  cell 
by  mere  absence  of  the  positive  determiner  or  by  another  determiner 
over  which  the  positive  triumphs  makes  no  difference  in  this  connec- 
tion. 


t-L 


~  ,£ 


256  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY  . 

combination  of  two  cells  from  two  such  parents  may  be  -)-  -f- 
or  -\ or \-  or .  In  three  out  of  the  four  possibili- 
ties the  dominant  is  present  and  will  assert  itself  in  the  bodies 
of  the  offspring;  that  is,  while  we  saw  that  all  of  the  first 
generation  of  mixed  stock_exhibit  jthe  dormnamVtrait,  three- 
fourths  of  the  second  generation  of  mixed  stock  rnay  be  ex- 
pected to  show  thai  trait. 

In  the  third  generation  of  mixed  stock  a  different  result 
will  appear.  Those  "wHose  "parents  of  the  second  generation 
developed  from  the  combination  -f-  -f-  will  breed  true  there- 
after, all  of  their  descendants  showing  the  dominant  trait  just 
as  if  there  had  been  no  mixture  in  their  ancestry.  Those 

whose  parents  developed  from  the  combination will  also 

breed  true  as  if  they  were  of  pure  recessive  stock.  But 

those  whose  parents  developed  from  the  combination  -\ or 

—  -{-,  though  exhibiting  the  dominant  characteristics,  will 
breed  exactly  like  the  first  generation  of  crossbreeds. 

From  these  facts-  it  follows  that  to  be  sure  of  securing 
the  appearance  of  a  dominant  trait,  though  not  always  in  a 
high  degree,  it  is  only  necessary  that  one  of  the  parents  be 
pure  bred  with  reference  to  that  trait,  even  though  the 
other  parent  lacks  it.  But  the  offspring  of  such  mixed  stock 
though  themselves  exhibiting  the  dominant  trait  cannot  be 
counted  upon  to  transmit  it  to  their  descendants.  For  though 
both  parents  exhibit  the  trait  by  virtue  of  its  dominance,  if 
they  derive  it  from  mixed  inheritance,  part  of  the  offspring 
may  be  expected  to  lack  it,  and  only  a  fraction  of  those  off- 
spring that  do  exhibit  the  trait  can  be  expected  to  transmit  it 
to  their  offspring  as  they  would  if  pure  bred  with  respect  to 
this  trait.  Furthermore,  it  may  be  quite  impossible  to  foretell 
which  among  the  offspring  that  exhibit  the  trait  can  thus  trans- 
mit it. 

Of  course  the  transmission  of  undesirable  dominants  fol- 
lows the  same  law;  all  of  the  offspring  exhibit  the  trait  if  it 
comes  by  unmixed  inheritance  through  one  parent,  even 
though  the  other  parent  be  normal,  and  if  both  parents  have 
the  evil  trait,  even  by  half  inheritance,  three-fourths  of  the 
children  may  be  expected  to  have  it,  one-fourth  of  the  children 


RACE  AND  EUGENICS  257 

to  transmit  it  as  a  thoroughbred  trait,  and  two-fourths  of  the 
children  to  transmit  it  as  a  halfbred  trait.  But  it  is  important 
to  observe  that  those  of  the  third  generation  who  do  not  show 
the  evil  trait,  having  developed  from  two  recessive  germs 
( )  cannot  transmit  it.  Thus  an  individual  whose  ances- 
try has  an  abnormality  but  in  whom  that  abnormality  does  not 
appear,  may  safely  mate  with  a  normal  person  provided  it  be 
known  that  the  abnormality  is  a  Dominant.  An  evif  inheritance 
by  this  very  brief  process  of  selection  can  be  entirely  bred  out, 
provided  it  is  a  dominant. 

Recessive  traits^behave  quite  differently  in  inheritance.  A 
recessive  Leing'  overcome  or  at  least  partially  overcome  by 
the  presence  of  the  dominant  determiner  from  either  parent, 
does  not  appear,  or  appears  only  in  a  modified  form,  unless  it 
was  present  in  the  germ  cells  of  both  parents.  But  though 
the  recessive  trait  does  not  appear,  yet  recessive  germ  cells 
develop  in  persons  a  part  of  whose  ancestry  was  recessive 
stock,  and  as  soon  as  two  persons  mate,  both  of  whom  are 
descended  in  part  from  recessive  stock,  even  though  neither 
of  them  shows  the  recessive  trait,  there  is  a  possibility  of  a 
combination  of  recessive  germ  cells  ( — • — )  and  in  this  en- 
tire absence  of  the  dominant  determiner  the  trait  which  was 
hidden  in  the  parents  breaks  forth  in  what  we  call  atavism,  or 
if  the  recessive  trait  has  not  manifested  itself  for  many  gen- 
erations we  call  its  reappearance  a  case  of  reversion.  Reces- 
sive traits  are  thus  more  insidious  than  dominants.  And  I 
most  hereditary  defects  (though  not  all)  are  thought  to  ber 
recessive  and  due  to  lack  of  a  dominant  determiner  which  is} 
normally  present. 

When  two  strains  of  a  distinct  ancestry  unite  the  probabil- 
ity of  the  absence  or  inadequacy  of  the  same  necessary  deter- 
miner in  both  is  greatly  diminished  and  if  a  determiner  for  a 
given  trait  is  present  in  either  strain,  that  usually  suffices  to 
produce  offspring  who  are  normal  with  respect  to  that  trait. 
But  when  closely  related  strains  mate  the  probability  that  de- 
ficiencies in  the  determiners  will  coincide  so  that  the  necessary 
determiners  for  certain  traits  will  be  received  from  neither 
parent  is  greatly  increased.  Herein  lies  the  peril  of  consan- 


258  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

guineous  matings.1  One  biological  reason  for  the  fact  of  sex 
appears  to  be  to  prevent  the  intense  inbreeding  of  a  single  un- 
sound line  that  would  perpetuate  and  exaggerate  defects, 
instead  of  allowing  them  to  be  rectified  by  crossing  with  an- 
other strain  which,  even  if  equally  defective  would  probably 
have  erred  from  the  normal  in  other  ways.  In  consanguineous 
marriages,  the  probability  is  greatly  increased  that  the  particu- 
lar germ  cells  which  unite  in  a  given  conception  will  be  de- 
ficient with  respect  to  the  same  necessary  determinant,  even 
though  the  presence  of  a  contrasting  determiner  from  some 
strain  of  the  ancestry  may  have  prevented  any  defect  from 
appearing  in  the  developed  bodies  of  the  consanguineous  par- 
ents. On  the  other  hand,  in  outbreeding  the  probability  is  that 
any  defect  in  the  germ  cell  derived  from  one  parent  will  be 
offset  by  a  determinant  from  the  other.  The  union  of  similar 
excellencies  is  to  be  sought,  without  consanguinity  which 
risks  the  union  of  similar  recessive  and  hidden  deficiencies.  *" 

Eugenics. — The  problem  of  eugenics,  as  it  concerns  us,  is 
not  the  discovery  of  biological  laws,  but  the  equally  essential 
task  of  applying  such  laws  by  the  diffusion  of  knowledge, 
popularization  of  ideals,  and  the  employment  of  other  agencies 
of  social  control.  There  is  little  doubt  of  the  biological  possi- 
bility of  ridding  society  of  a  great  mass  of  its  congenital  de- 
fectives and  incompetents,  and  there  is  hope  of  raising  the 
level  of  health,  ability,  and  predisposition  to  morality,  much  as 
a  mixed  herd  of  grade  cattle  in  a  few  generations  can  be  rid 
of  scrubs,  brought  near  to  a  standard  of  form  and  color  and 
greatly  improved  as  to  its  production  of  milk  and  cream.  The 
aim  of  eugenics  does  not  imply  the  evolution  of  a  new  type  of 
humanity,  higher  than  has  ever  existed  before,  but  more  gen- 
eral conformity  to  the  existing  standard  of  human  excellence. 
Biological  knowledge  of  the  complex  problem  of  heredity  as 

1  Let  AA  represent  a  trait  normal  in  both  parents,  and  Bb  and  Nn 
represent  traits  normal  in  only  one  parent,  and  AA  ...  to  ZZ  represent 
the  whole  hereditary  outfit.  Then  let  two  persons  mate;  one  may  have 
Bb  and  the  other  may  have  Nn  and  the  offspring  develop  normally,  but 
if  the  two  who  mated  are  of  the  same  stock  there  is  danger  that  they 
both  will  have  Bb  or  Nn,  which  when  mated  may  give  bb  or  nn,  there 
being  no  normal  determiner  for  the  trait  represented  by  B  or  N. 


RACE  AND  EUGENICS  259 

it  relates  to  mental  and  moral  qualities  in  man  is  as  yet  far 
from  complete.  As  yet  we  can  identify  but  few  of  the  unit 
characters,  and  have  not  learned  in  respect  to  all  of  those  we 
think  we  can  identify  whether  they  are  dominant  or  recessive. 
But  we  have  sufficient  knowledge  to  show  that  certain  things 
should,  and  certain  other  things  should  not,  be  done,  and  in- 
crease of  knowledge  is  to  be  hoped  for.  Musical,  artistic,  lit- 
erary, mathematical  or  inventive  ability,  a  high  degree  'of 
mental  organization,  cheerfulness,  courage,  caution,  sym- 
pathy, sensitiveness  to  social  approval  and  disapproval, 
and  a  high  degree  of  central  control  are  all  transmis- 
sible by  heredity  either  as  unit  traits  or  as  combinations 
of  traits. 

But  more  is  biologically  possible  than  may  prove  to  be 
socially  possible.  We  cannot  control  the  mating  of  men  and 
women  as  we  do  that  of  beasts.  Nevertheless,  something  im- 
mensely worth  while  may  be  accomplished.  • 

To  begin  with,  we  can  control  those  who  are  so  defective 
(hat  by  reason  of  their  defects  they  become  wards  of  the  state 
in  prisons  and  asylums.  We  may  also  insist  that  those  who 
belong  to  certain  classes  of  defectives  shall  become  wards  of 
the  state.  In  the  words  of  Darwin,  "Except  in  the  case  of  man 
himself,  hardly  anyone  is  so  ignorant  as  to  allow  the  worst 
animals  to  breed."  The  mass  of  heredity  insanity,  epilepsy, 
feeble-mindedness,  deafness  and  blindness,  and  the  worst 
forms  of  special  susceptibility  to  disease,  are  borne  along  upon  a 
widening  stream  of  germ  plasm  which  for  a  generation  so- 
ciety must  at  all  needed  cost  prevent  from  propagation.  Thus 
we  may  "dry  up  the  streams  that  feed  the  torrent  of  defective 
and  degenerate  protoplasm." 

Vasectomy,  applied  to  defective  males  allowed  to  be  at  large, 
is  advocated  by  some  and  is  already  legalized  in  eight  states. 
The  operation  is  slight  and  a  corresponding  operation  upon 
women,  though  more  severe,  is  free  from  any  great  danger. 
These  operations  when  properly  and  effectively  performed 
prevent  parenthood.  There  is,  however,  difference  of  opinion 
as  to  the  moral  consequences  of  turning  loose  a  body  of  defec- 
tives who  may  be  physically  attractive  and  who  are  entirely 


2<5o  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

capable  of  sexual  immorality,  but  insured  against  the  possi- 
bility of  parenthood.  The  chief  moral  danger  is  not  to  them, 
for  they  are  little  restrained  in  any  case,  but  to  others  whom 
they  may  corrupt.  Moreover,  the  harm  to  this  and  to  succeed- 
ing generations  caused  by  the  spread  of  venereal  disease 
through  such  persons  might  easily  far  more  than  offset  the 
physical  gains  resulting  from  their  sterilization.  Further- 
more, many  of  those  to  whom  the  operation  would  apply, 
indeed  probably  almost  all  of  those  to  whom  we  can 
be  sure  that  it  might  otherwise  properly  apply,  require  custo- 
dial care  and  can  be  restrained  from  parenthood  without 
surgery. 

Something  may  be  accomplished  by  marriage  laws.  But  a 
large  proportion  of  the  worst  births  are  illegitimate.  Forbid- 
ding marriage  to  any  large  class  of  persons  who  are  not  sub- 
ject to  custodial  care  increases  immorality  with  its  train  of 
evil  consequences. 

If  medical  inspection  is  required  as  a  prerequisite  to  legal 
marriage,  there  must  be  medical  inspectors,  both  male  and 
female,  paid  by  the  state,  who  engage  in  no  private  practice. 
This  will  be  possible  when,  with  the  advancing  socialization 
of  the  medical  art  and  the  relative  increase  of  preventive  as 
compared  with  curative  medicine,  every  considerable  com- 
munity will  have  a  public  health  official  of  high  professional 
standing,  receiving  his  whole  compensation  from  the  govern- 
ment. 

It  has  been  proposed  that  a  public  register  be  maintained, 
showing  the  heredity  and  heritable  traits  of  all  who  volun- 
tarily offer  themselves  for  registry.  It  is  thought  that  those 
with  excellent  ancestry  might  gladly  avail  themselves  of  the 
opportunity  to  have  their  quality  thus  certified  and  that  eugenic 
excellence  would  be  as  real  a  matrimonial  attraction  as  wealth 
or  social  station.  "Health,  beauty,  and  vitality  are  natural 
objects  of  admiration  and  love.  Titles,  wealth,  and  other  ex- 
traneous attractions  are  not."  There  is  no  reason  why 
eugenic  fitness  may  not  be  included  in  love's  ideal.  Ex-Presi- 
dent Roosevelt  would  have  such  fitness  in  marriage  a  matter 
of  patriotism.  "Some  persons  would  even  make  it  a  matter 


RACE  AND  EUGENICS  261 

of  religion."  A  general  social  judgment  affirming  its  impor- 
tance will  go  far  toward  making  it  a  part  of  the  ideal  of  the 
individual  members  of  society. 

According  to  Professor  Hobhouse :  "Where  the  conditions 
of  life  are  hard,  where  there  is  little  regard  for  justice  and 
mercy,  and  in  a  word  for  all  the  higher  ethical  qualities,  those 
who  possess  these  qualities  hare  less  chance  of  prospering  and 
leaving  descendants  behind  them.  .  .  .  From  this  point  of 
view  political  and  civil  liberty  and  economic  justice  are  the 
most  important  of  eugenic  agencies.  .  .  .  The  actual  progress 
of  humanity  depends  far  more  on  the  survival  of  the  best  than 
on  the  elimination  of  the  worst.  .  .  .  Eugenically  considered 
then,  the  broad  duty  of  society  is  so  to  arrange  its  institutions 
that  success  is  to  the  socially  fit.  And  this  is  possible  only  in 
proportion  as  the  social  order  is  based  on  principles  of  a 
just  and  equitable  organization."  x 

The  chief  social  agency  for  the  promotion  of  eugenics  is 
education  and  the  development  of  a  eugenic  morality.  Upon 
this  depends  the  passage  and  effectiveness  of  laws  upon  this 
subject.  And  upon  it  depends  the  intelligent  self-control  of 
those  who  are  a  law  unto  themselves.  The  control  of  wards 
of  the  state  may  do  much  to  diminish  the  prevalence  of  unfit 
births,  but  education  resulting  in  morality  is  the  chief  means 
for  increasing  the  proportion  of  the  fittest  births.  Among 
well-instructed  and  high-minded  persons  who  can  transmit 
good  blood,  and  who  are  so  situated  that  they  can  afford  to  give 
their  children  good  nurture,  the  realization  should  %be  made  to 
prevail  that  parenthood  is  the  highest  and  most  sacred  of  all 
duties  and  of  all  privileges,  the  greatest  of  ,all  opportunities  for 
social  service.  Not,  however,  that  we  want  an  increase  in 
the  number  of  children  born,  but  rather  that  we  want  an  in- 
crease of  the  number  of  children  born  in  families  where  they 
are  both  well  born  and  properly  nurtured. 

Unplanned  Selective  Agencies.— -i.  Many  unplanned  se- 
lective agencies  have  operated  to  modify  purely  natural  selec- 
tion in  determining  the  reproduction  of  society.  •  Of  these  one 
of  the  most  baleful  has  been  war,  slaughtering  thousands  of 

1  Hobhouse :     Social  Eyolution  and   Political   Theory,  p.  53. 


262  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

the  fittest  youth  and  leaving  the  less  fit  to  live  and  perpetuate 
the  race. 

2.  The  extermination  and  expulsion  of  men  who  have  the 
honesty  and  devotion  to  adhere  to  unpopular  opinions  deflow- 
ers a  race,  and  it  is  thought  by  some  to  have  had  much  to  do 
with  the  decline  of  Spain  from  the  first  to  almost  the  lowest 
rank  among  the  nations  of  Christendom. 

3.  It  must  be  admitted  that  charity  and  the  arts  of  medi- 
cine and  hygiene  keep  alive  to  become  parents  some  whom 
nature  would  otherwise  eliminate.     This  by  no  means  offsets 
the  good  done  by  charity,  but  this  interference  with  natural 
selection  must  be  offset  by  some  conscious  limitation,  volun- 
tary or  enforced,  upon  the  propagation  of  the  unfit. 

4.  The  prolongation  of  the  period  of  education,  by  post- 
poning marriage  during  some  of  the  most  fertile  years,  di- 
minishes the  relative  proportion  of  our  people  who  are  born 
of  the  class  of  parents  who  attain  liberal  education.     Such 
parents  not  only  give  evidence  of  powers  that  may  be  trans- 
mitted by  heredity,  but  they  also  are  the  ones  able  to  give  their 
children  the  best  nurture.     The  fact  that  it  takes  two  years 
longer  to  acquire  a  liberal  education  in  American  schools  than 
in  Germany  constitutes  a  national  handicap. 

5.  Too   low   a   standard   of   living  among   the   laboring 
classes  increases  the  proportion  which  they  contribute  to  each 
succeeding  generation.     Too  expensive  a  standard  of  living 
among  the  more  prosperous  and  ambitious  classes  diminishes 
the  prpporfion  which  they  contribute  to  each  succeeding  gen- 
eration.   Too  wide  a  difference  between  the  standard  of  liv- 
ing of  the  laboring  classes  and  the  successful  middle  classes, 
causes  population  to  be  recruited  more  from  the  former  and 
less   from  the  latter.     The  "business"   standard   of   success 
which  measures  social  position,  not  by  services  rendered  nor 
by  personal  culture  and  character,  but  by  scale  of  expenditure, 
is  a  genetic  curse.     A  reasonable  recognition  of  life's  values 
(which  are  not  economic)    and  a  standard  of  expenditure 
neither  too  low  among  the  laborers  nor  too  high  among  the 
business  and  professional  classes  is  to  be  desired   from  the 
genetic,  as  well  as  from  every  other,  point  of  view.    An  ex- 


RACE  AND  EUGENICS  263 

cessively  high  economic  standard  not  only  postpones  the  time 
when  the  self-supporting  man  of  good  social  standing  feels 
that  he  can  marry,  or  even  prevents  marriage  altogether,  but 
also  limits  the  number  of  children  that  are  welcomed  after 
marriage  has  taken  place.  An  exacting  economic  standard  is 
one  reason  why  native-born  Americans  have  smaller  families 
than  newly-arrived  immigrants.  Another  is  the  greater  influ- 
ence of  the  Catholic  religion  among  the  immigrants.  Still  an- 
other cause  of  the  larger  families  of  immigrants  may  be 
found  in  the  general  tendency  for  birth  rates  to  rise  when  the 
prosperity  of  a  class  of  parents  increases  so  suddenly  that  the 
increased  income  is  not  eaten  up  by  an  equal  advance  in  the 
standard  of  living.  This  third  cause  is  to  be  taken  into  account 
only  in  the  case  of  immigrant  groups  that  show  a  higher  birth 
rate  than  in  the  country  from  which  they  came.  The  progres- 
sive change  in  the  racial  character  of  the  American  popula- 
tion is  due  less  to  the  volume  of  immigration  than  to  the  dis- 
proportion between  the  standards  of  living  and  consequently 
between  the  birth  rates  of  native-born  and  newly-immigrated 
parents. 

6.  A  chief  cause  for  declining  birth  rates  in  general  is 
the  extensive  employment  of  methods  for  preventing  concep- 
tion, and  the  employment  of  these  methods  is  more  extensive 
among  the  wealthier  and  more  instructed  classes. 

7.  Another  selective  agency  exists  in  the  difference  be- 
tween urban  and  rural  life.     The  conditions  of  life  in  the 
country  tend  to  make  children  more  welcome,  marriage  is 
earlier,  and  sterility  caused  by  venereal  disease  is  less  frequent. 
These  factors  tend  to  increase  the  proportion  of  the  popula- 
tion derived  from  rural  ancestry.     At  present  the  high  birth 
rate  of  immigrants,  most  of  whom  settle  in  cities,  causes  our 
urban  population  to  show  a  relatively  high  birth  rate.    Indeed 
this  high  birth  rate  among  our  immigrants  causes  the  slums 
to  swarm  with  children  and  to  furnish  a  higher  relative  quota 
to  our  population  than  comes  from  any  other  source.     But 
among  the  successful  classes  in  the  cities  the  birth  rate  is 
exceedingly  low.     According  to  Professor  von  Luschan,  it  is 
unusual  for  a  family  to  continue  to  exist  in  the  city  for  more 


264  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

than  four  generations.  Postponed  marriages,  voluntary  limi- 
tation of  offspring,  and,  worst  of  all,  venereal  disease  tend  to 
wipe  out  urban  families.  It  is  perfectly  possible  for  a  family 
to  survive  through  many  generations  as  city-dwellers,  provided 
the  temptations  of  the  city  do  not  overcome  their  morality  and 
their  family  ideals.  This  is  shown  by  the  history  of  certain 
families  of  Huguenot  refugees,  who  have  succeeded  as  city- 
dwellers  ever  since  France  deprived  herself  of  them  hundreds 
of  years  ago.  The  city  continually  draws  to  itself  a  large  pro- 
portion of  our  most  highly  endowed  individuals  and  there 
their  stock  becomes  extinct. 

8.  Finally,  social  ideals  concerning  womanhood  are  ef- 
fective agencies  of  reproductive  selection.  A  social  class  in 
which  any  other  ideal  for  woman  seems  higher  than  that  of 
motherhood,  not  the  mere  physical  but  also  the  spiritual  moth- 
ering of  children,  will  not  contribute  its  quota  to  the  life  of  the 
succeeding  generations. 

If  the  more  intelligent  and  well-to-do  half  of  a  population 
exactly  maintains  its  balance  between  births  and  deaths  while 
among  the  lower  half  the  births  are  to  the  deaths  as  three  to 
two,  in  the  fifth  generation  the  progeny  of  the  poorer  and  more 
ignorant  parents  will  outnumber  the  descendants  of  the  upper 
half  of  the  population  as  five  to  one.  If  the  generations  of  the 
lower  half  succeed  each  other  as  two  to  three,  \vhile  those  of 
the  upper  half  succeed  each  other  as  three  to  two,  then  in  the 
fifth  generation  the  progeny  of  the  lower  half  will  predominate 
by  twenty-five  to  one.  After  we  make  all  allowance  for  the 
popular  exaggeration  of  the  difference  of  endowment  be- 
tween the  members  of  different  social  classes  we  must  still 
recognize  the  social  significance  of  the  differences  between  bet- 
ter endowed  and  the  less  endowed  strains  as  well  as  the  incal- 
culable advantage  of  rearing  in  a  home  of  education  and  re- 
finement. There  is  no  doubt  of  the  tendency  of  the  class 
that  has  not  proved  capacity  by  success-  and  that  has  a  low 
economic  and  cultural  standard  of  life  to  contribute  cumula- 
tively its  disproportionate  share,  and  those  of  proved  capacity 
and  high  standards  to  contribute  a  dwindling  share  to  the 
population.  Why  have  great  races  lost  their  preeminence* 


RACE  AND  EUGENICS  265 

In  most  things  the  movement  of  history  has  been  toward  prog- 
ress and  not  toward  decline.  Is  there  an  inveterate  tendency 
toward  the  decline  of  successful  stocks?  We  answer  most 
questions  as  we  like  to  answer  them,  and  we  do  not  like  to 
think  that  we  are  a  deteriorating  stock.  The  intelligent  have  a 
duty. 

Tremendous  as  is  the  importance  of  reducing  the  number 
of  degenerates,  it  is  still  more  important  to  secure  the  pres- 
ence of  a  large  number  of  the  well-born  and  well-reared. 
Family  stock  that  shows  a  high  level  of  talent  and  fitness  for 
participation  in  civilized  life  is  inestimably  precious  and  should 
not  allow  itself  to  become  extinct.  Genius  is  unpredictable  and 
non-hereditary,  but  talent  runs  in  families,  unless  it  is  crossed 
out  by  improper  mating.  The  loss  of  a  few  score  from  the 
hundreds  of  thousands  who  dwelt  in  Greece  would  have  im- 
poverished that  nation,  and  the  whole  world  would  have  been 
immeasurably  poorer.  Progress  still  depends  much  upon 
genius  and  very  much  upon  talent,  and  talent  in  many  citizens. 
So  also  does  the  maintenance  of  a  high  level  once  attained  in 
government,  in  industry,  and  in  culture. 

The  chief  eugenic  agencies  are  spiritual,  or  psychic:  a 
standard  of  living  high  enough  to  limit  excess  of  population 
among  the  poorer  classes,  as  it  has  done  in  France,  and  most 
important  of  all  a  high  morality,  a  noble  family  tradition,  and 
a  patriotic  or  even  religious  sense  of  the  duty  of  those  who 
are  able  to  give  to  society  well-born,  well-reared  sons  and 
daughters.  The  experience  of  Rome,  of  France,  and  in  less 
degree  of  other  nations,  exhibits  the  fact  that  society  may  be 
in  even  greater  peril  of  race  suicide  through  lack  of  a  genetic 
conscience  in  the  "upper  classes"  than  of  Malthusian  degener- 
acy through  lack  of  an  adequate  standard  of  living  in  the 
"lower  classes."  History  shows  no  nation  that  has  long  re- 
mained great  under  a  "pleasure  economy."  A  pain  economy 
knows  the  hard  and  shriveled  virtues  of  necessity ;  a  "pleasure 
economy"  dissolves  in  gross  vices  or  in  an  equally  selfish 
dilettantism.  Only  a  duty  economy,  in  which  men  who  stand 
in  the  light  and  are  ruled  by  "the  law  of  liberty"  choose  loyalty 
to  the  whole,  of  which  the  individual  and  his  brief  day  are  but 


266  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

a  part,  can  know  the  worth  of  life  or  bring  its  possibilities  to 
fulfillment. 

The  bane  of  social  agitation  is  particularism,  wrhich  sees 
the  importance  of  one  factor  in  human  welfare  to  the  partial 
exclusion  of  the  others.  In  sociology  nothing  is  all-impor- 
tant because  many  things  are  all-important ;  that  is,  here  as  in 
every  organic  correlation  of  realities,  the  ruin  of  one  may  ruin 
all,  and  by  the  same  token  the  presence  of  all  is  essential  to 
the  worth  of  any.  Eugenics,  the  securing  of  well-born  citizens, 
is  one  of  the  many  all-important  factors  in  the  fulfillment  of 
social  aims. 


CHAPTER  XV 
IMMIGRATION 

Immigration  as  affecting  the  density  of  population  is  a 
technic  problem.1  But  immigration  affects  not  only  the  density 
but  al^o  the  psychophysical  quality  of  population,  and  in  that 
aspect  calls  for  attention  in  the  present  connection.  It  would 
be  folly  to  give  great  heed  to  eugenics  while  neglecting  effec- 
tually to  regulate  immigration. 

Immigration  to  the  United  States  has  so  increased  that  by 
1900  about  ^6  per  cent,  of  the  population  of  the  country  were 
either  born  at  road  or  the  children  of  parents  who  were  born 
abroad.  According  to  Josiah  Strong,  the  ferry  John  G.  Car- 
lisle, in  her  hourly  trips  from  Ellis  Island  to  the  Battery,  car- 
ried more  immigrants  in  a  year  than  came  over  in  all  the  fleets 
of  the  nations  in  the  two  centuries  after  John  Smith  landed  at 
Jamestown. 

Never  has  any  other  nation  had  such  an  opportunity  as 
the  United  States  to  raise  its  population  quality  by  selection 
of  those  admitted  to  its  shores.  Nor  has  any  had  such  occa- 
sion to  consider  the  possibility  of  allowing  its  population 
quality  to  be  lowered  by  immigration.  We  must  not  exclude 
any  in  a  spirit  of  selfishness,  for  we  hold  this  vast  and  rich 
domain  as  a  sacred  trust  for  humanity  and  for  the  ages.  But 
we  must  exercise  care  to  distinguish  between  idealism  and 
sentimentality. 

Effect  of  Immigration  on  Native  Birth  Rate. — When  a 
country  receives  great  numbers  of  immigrants  with  a  lower 
standard  of  living  than  that  of  the  previous  inhabitants,  the 
latter  are  forced  to  limit  their  offspring  much  more  than  they 
otherwise  would  do.  The  result  is  the  substitution  of  immi-. 
grants  and  their  children  for  the  unborn  children  of  the  orig- 

1  Compare  p.  43  and  following. 

26* 


268  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

inal  population.  It  is  erroneous  to  suppose  that  the  immigrants 
to  the  United  States  form  a  net  addition  to  the  population  of 
the,  country.  They  are  largely  substituted  for  native-born 
sons  and  daughters.  It  is  the  opinion  of  numerous  expert 
students  of  the  subject  that  our  population  is  little  if  at  all 
greater  to-day  than  it  would  be  if  we  had  received  no  immi- 
grants during  the  last  century.  It  is  certain  that  the  birth 
rate  has  fallen  off  enormously  in  the  families  of  the  original 
settlers.  The  birth  rate  in  this  country  would  have  fallen 
off  gradually  on  account  of  increasing  population  pressure 
whether  that  population  pressure  were  due  to  immigration  or 
to  natural  increase.  But  if  the  population  pressure  were  due 
to  natural  increase,  the  birth  rate  obviously  would  not  have 
fallen  off  till  it  had  done  its  work.  In  fact  the  birth  rate  of 
native  stock  has  fallen  off  not  only  on  account  of  an  artificial 
increase  of  population  pressure  through  immigration,  but  also 
because  of  further  artificial  difficulty  in  maintaining  the  native 
standard  of  living  among  the  masses,  due  to  the  low  standard 
of  living  among  the  imported  competitors.  During  the  first 
four  inter-census  periods  the  population  of  this  country  gained 
227  per  cent,  with  very  little  immigration.  An  estimate  made 
in  1815  based  on  the  first  three  censuses,  reckoned  the  probable 
population  of  the  United  States  in  1900  at  100,235,985.  It  was 
instead  only  76,303,387,  in  spite  of  the  incoming  of  19,115,221 
immigrants  since  1820,  so  tremendously  did  the  birth  rate  of 
the  native  stock  decline.  The  native  birth  rate  has  most  de- 
clined at  just  the  periods  and  in  just  the  regions  that  have 
been  marked  by  the  great  immigrant  influx.  At  present  in 
sections  of  New  England  the  native  stock,  once  so  prolific, 
is  not  even  maintaining  itself.  This  is  what  the  so-called 
"laws  of  population"  would  have  led  one  to  expect.  Anestab- 

lished  population  will  sacrifice  its  increase  to  maintain  its 
*^in  I  ^  •*•  t  _  i  .  *^  •  -i-"~.  ~t  - 

^stand^d  of  living.     Fromthe  influx  of  forelgnersnaving  a 

low  stanaaroiFTesults  that  the  level  of  wages  in  the  easily 
accessible  occupations  is  so  low  and  the  social  standing  so 
inferior,  that  native  parents  shudder  at  the  thought  of  having 
children  enter  those  forms  of  work  which  they  would  share 
with  the  newcomers.  Some  of  these  occupations  are  almost 


IMMIGRATION.  *6g 

caste  callings.  And  the  natives  will  not  rear  children  to 
break  caste  by  entering  them.  There  are  not  enough  places 
in  the  upper  caste  work  to  call  into  being  a  large  population.1 

Immigration  and  the  Standard  of  Living. — Socialists 
dream  of  a  time  when  manual  labor  will  be  performed  under 
sanitary  conditions  by  men  of  developed  intelligence  and 
character.  There  seemed  a  near  prospect  of  this  when  excava- 
tions were  dug  and  cotton  machinery  tended  by  the  sons  and 
daughters  of  New  England  farmers.  These  have  been  dis- 
placed from  such  labor  by  successive  waves  of  immigrants 
who  would  accept  lower  wages;  and  the  stock  from  which 
they  sprung  has  enormously  diminished  its  rate  of  reproduc- 
tion, limiting  their  offspring  to  the  number  thai  could  find 
employment  in  occupations  better  paid.  It  is  true  the  immi- 
grants tend  to  acquire  a  higher  standard  and  to  insist  upon 
better  wages  than  they  had  at  home,  but  our  better  wage  acts 
as  a  magnet  to  ever  new  invasions  of  low-standard  labor, 
and  if  immigration  is  unchecked  will  continue  to  do  so  until 
no  very  considerable  difference  between  American  and  Euro- 
pean wages  remains.  At  the  same  time,  the  removal  of  labor- 
ers from  old-world  countries  tends  to  increase  the  birth  rate 
there,  and  to  relieve  congestion  only  locally  and  temporarily. 
In  1885  it  was  written:  "Europe  is  able  to  send  us  nearly 
nine  times  as  many  immigrants  during  the  next  30  years  as 
during  the  30  years  past  without  any  diminution  of  her  popu- 
lation." 

If  we  should  grant  that  the  immigrants  are  of  a  stock 
that  is  quite  as  good  as  ours  and  that  they  worthily  represent 
the  stock  from  which  they  spring,  still  it  remains  unquestion- 
able that  their  standard  of  living  is  lower  than  ours.  And  by 
unrestricted  admission  of  immigrants  having  such  a  standard 
of  living  we  more  or  less  substitute  them  and  their  offspring 
for  our  own  unborn  children,  we  invite  the  gradual  but  in- 
evitable approach  of  old-world  standards  of  living,  and  sacri- 
fice the  opportunity  to  establish  a  higher  level  of  general 
welfare  which  ought  to  prevail  in  this  country,  and  we  do  so 
without  any  assurance  whatever  that,  save  very  temporarily, 

1  Fairchild :    Immigration,  pp.  215  seq. 


270  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

the  number  of  those  who  enjoy  the  advantages  of  the  new 
world  is  materially  greater,  or  the  number  of  those  who  strug- 
gle against  old-world  conditions  is  materially  less  than  if  we 
enforced  a  policy  of  restriction. 

The  maintenance  of  a  progressive  standard  of  living  among 
the  laboring  classes  is  a  eugenic  agency  irrespective  of  racial 
differences.  Without  it  each  succeeding  generation  wit- 
nesses a  progressive  replacement  of  the  stock  that  had  risen 
in  the  economic  scale  by  a  larger  and  larger  proportion  born 
from  those  who  have  given  no  such  proof  of  their  ability. 
Besides,  the  high  and  progressive  standard  of  living  is  ines- 
timably to  be  desired  on  its  own  account.  It  means  the 
juster  distribution  of  wealth,  opportunity,  and  all  the  values 
of  life. 

Immigration  and  National  Development. — It  is  no  wonder 
that  the  rise  in  wages  and  in  the  standard  of  living  in  this 
country  has  failed  to  keep  pace  with  the  increase  of  wealth 
when  we  consider  that  it  is  the  period  of  prosperity  that 
affords  the  opportunity  for  laborers  to  secure  advancements  in 
wages,  but  that  every  period  of  prosperity  brings  to  this 
country  a  great  influx  of  immigrants  willing  to  accept  lower 
wages  and  to  content  themselves  with  a  low  standard  of  liv- 
ing. This  turns  to  sand  the  stepping  stones  by  which  labor 
should  rise.1 

To  have  maintained  the  high  and  progressive  native  stand- 
ard of  living  among  our  laborers,  instead  of  inviting  these  low 
standard  workers,  would  have  meant  not  only  higher  wages 
and  a  more  equitable  distribution  of  wealth.  Incidentally  it 
would  have  meant  a  greater  demand  for  the  products  of 
industry  and  a  stronger  home  market.  And  it  would  also 
have  meant  a  more  intelligent  population,  better  governed 
cities,  and  a  general  higher  level  of  national  life.  All  this  is 
entirely  aside  from  the  effect  upon  population  quality  and 
does  not  necessarily  imply  that  the  native  stock  was  any 
better  endowed  than  that  which  has  more  recently  immigrated. 
It  means  that  the  increase  in  the  numbers  of  the  population 

1King:  Wealth  and  Income  of  the  People  of  the  United  States, 
pp.  173-207  and  pp.  235  to  255. 


IMMIGRATION  271 

cannot  go  faster  than  it  should  without  preventing  the  advance 
which  would  otherwise  take  place  in  the  standard  of  living 
and  the  general  level  of  society.  And  matters  are  made  far 
worse  when  the  individuals  who  compose  the  excessive  in- 
crease in  numbers  are  not  reared  by  previous  inhabitants,  but 
have  an  established  standard  of  living  lower  than  that  of  the 
previous  inhabitants.  The  desire  to  limit  immigration  does 
not  necessarily  imply  any  assumption  of  race  superiority  over 
the  people  to  be  excluded.  It  does  not  even  depend  upon 
the  natural  desire  of  a  people  to  rear  their  own  sons  and 
daughters  instead  of  deriving  the  population  of  their  country 
from  an  outside  source.  It  rests  upon  the  desire  to  maintain 
a  high  standard  of  living,  not  merely  in  the  economic  sense  of 
that  phrase,  but  in  all  the  aspects  of  national  life. 

America  Aspires  to  World  Leadership^— America  aspires  to 
world  leadership  not  through  war  and  conquest,  but  through 
ideas  and  ideals,  through  developed  wisdom,  rectified  valua- 
tions and  democratic  institutions.  Every  great  nation  may 
have  a  share  in  this  world  leadership;  For  the  United  States 
as  a  nation  to  become  the  very  best  society  that  it  can  be 
may  well  enable  it  to  render  to  all  the  world  and  to  the 
centuries  to  come  a  far  greater  service  than  it  can  by  afford- 
ing an  asylum  now  to  a  larger  number  of  peasants  than  is 
consistent  with  progressive  maintenance  of  the  highest  national 
life. 

It  is  argued  that  we  could  not  have  built  our  railroads  and 
developed  our  manufactures  without  the  cheap  immigrant 
labor.  No  one  can  prove  whether  or  no  we  might  have  pushed 
forward  our  industrial  development  quite  so  rapidly  by  the 
labor  of  the  native-born  working  for  wages  that  would  have 
secured  a  more  equable  distribution  of  the  country's  wealth. 
We  did  make  the  difficult  beginning  of  our  infant  industries 
while  paying  wages  that  were  relatively  very  high,  high  enough 
to  draw  men  from  the  vast  and  fertile  expanses  of  our  free 
lands. 

The  immigration  which  we  are  now  receiving  in  such 
vast  numbers  does  little  to  bring  our  waste  areas  under  culti- 
vation, but  largely  settles  in  the  slums  of  cities  and  m  manu- 


272  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

facturing  districts  that  are  already  among  the  most  congested 
districts  in  the  whole  world. 

In  resisting  selective  restrictions  of  immigration,  humanity 
and  greed  have  formed  a  veritable  alliance,  for  it  must  be 
confessed  that  .our  immigration  policy  has  been  influenced 
by  a  desire,  justifiable  within  limits  but  not  beyond 
them,  to  cheapen  labor.  It  has  also  been  influenced  by  fear 
of  the  votes  of  immigrants  already  here,  and  perhaps  by 
the  desire  for  a  class  of  voters  easily  herded  by  party 
leaders. 

The  New  Immigration. — To  immigrate  no  longer  requires 
unusual  courage,  initiative,  and  thrift.  It  is  estimated  that 
from  50  to  70  per  cent,  of  the  present  immigrants  have  their 
passage  money  earned  for  them  in  America  'by  friends  who 
preceded  them.  Immigration  to  the  United  States  has  been 
actively  and  effectively  promoted  by  irresponsible  agents  of 
steamship  companies.  "When  one  of  the  greatest  motives 
back  of  immigration  is  the  desire  of  the  transportation  com- 
panies to  make  money,  the  mere  fact  of  immigration  is  no 
indication  of  any  real  need  of  the  immigrant  in  this  country, 
nor  of  his  fitness  to  enter  into  its  life."  And  it  is  a  fact 
worth  recording  that  the  cost  is  only  one-third  as  much 
to  export  a  pauper  across  the  Atlantic  as  to  keep  him  a 
year. 

Not  only  has  immigration  to  the  United  States  increased 
enormously  in  volume  but  it  has  changed  in  character.  The 
immigrants  of  to-day  probably  come,  on  the  average,  from 
lower  social  standing  in  their  home  countries  than  was  once 
the  case.  And  there  has  been  a  radical  change  in  the  repre- 
sentation of  racial  stocks.  Prior  to  1882  practically  the  entire 
immigration  to  the  United  States  came  from  Great  Britain, 
Germany,  and  Scandinavia.  This  was  "the  old  immigration." 
"The  new  immigration"  is  mostly  from  Austria-Hungary, 
Italy,  Poland,  Russia,  the  Balkan  States,  Spain,  Turkey,  Syria, 
and  the  neighboring  regions.  Till  1870  all  but  about  one 
per  cent,  of  our  immigration  came  from  the  old  sources.  In 
1880  those  from  the  new  sources  were  still  only  about  one- 
tenth  of  the  whole.  But  in  1902  the  "new  immigration"  out- 


IMMIGRATION  273 

numbered  the  old  three  and  a  half  to  one,  and  in  1907  the 
"new  immigration"  outnumbered  the  old  more  than  four  to 
one.  A  considerable  number  of  those  who  come  from  the 
newer  stocks  are  "birds  of  passage"  and  return  after  a  time 
to  their  old  homes.  The  number  returning  as  well  as  the 
number  coming  varies  from  year  to  year.  The  net  increase 
of  population  from  immigration,  after  deducting  departures, 
during  the  same  period  was  for  the  year  ending  June  30,  1913, 
815,303.  Of  these  15  per  cent,  came  from  northern  and 
western  Europe,  75  per  cent,  from  southern  and  eastern 
Europe  and  western  Asia,  and  the  remaining  10  per  cent, 
from  British  North  America,  Mexico,  South  America,  eastern 
Asia,  Australia,  and  elsewhere.1 

The  fact  that  people  who  come  to  us  from  eastern  and 
southern  countries  of  the  old  world  are  so  largely  illiterate 
and  unskilled  and  socially  undeveloped  may  be  due  to  either, 
or  in  some  degree  to  both,  of  two  causes :  either  that  they 
are  of  inferior  native  ability  and  worth,  "the  beaten  men  of 
beaten  races" ;  or  that  they  have  never  had  a  fair  chance. 
If  it  is  wholly  because  they  have  never  had  a  chance  then 
their  children's  children  may  perhaps  be  expected  on  the 
average  to  be  quite  the  equals  of  the  descendants  of  the 
Pilgrims.  But  if  the  fact  that  they  have  never  found  or 
made  a  chance  is  due,  even  in  large  part,  to  native  inferiority, 
then  they  may  be  expected  to  work  a  permanent  deterioration 
in  the  life  and  destiny  of  this  nation. 

Even  if  they  are  equal  in  native  ability  to  the  average  of 
the  races  which  they  represent  and  to  our  present  population, 
still  their  present  lack  of  education  and  general  social  under- 
development  and  strangeness  to  our  customs  and  institutions 
makes  it  impossible  to  assimilate  without  change  and  disturb- 
ance in  the  current  of  American  life  so  large  a  number  as  could 
be  assimilated  from  a  population  already  more  like  ourselves 
in  sentiments,  customs,  standard  of  living  and  general  advance- 
ment. 

Immigration  laws. — Congress  has  recently  passed  and  the 

1  Report  of  the  Commissioner  General  for  Immigration,  Govern- 
ment Printing  Office,  1914,  pp.  8,  40,  41,  42. 


274  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

President  vetoed  a  bill  to  apply  a  literacy  test  to  immigrants, 
requiring  that  those  above  fourteen  years  of  age  be  able  to 
read  and  write  some  language.  The  supporters  of  this  measure 
held  that  such  a  test  would  exclude  a  considerable  part  of 
"the  new  immigration,"  but  practically  none  of  "the  old  immi- 
gration." This  is  desired  by  some  on  the  ground  that  the 
southeastern  Europeans  are  so  different  in  race  from  the 
original  inhabitants  of  this  country  that  a  very  great  immigra- 
tion from  that  source  is  inadvisable.  It  is  desired  by  others 
who  hold  that  the  racial  differences  constitute  no  ground 
for  desiring  to  lessen  "the  new  immigration,"  but  who  believe 
that  the  illiteracy,  lack  of  skill,  low  standard  of  living,  and 
even  mere  vastness  of  numbers  are  putting  too  great  a  strain 
upon  the  assimilating  powers  of  this  country.  An  illiteracy 
test  would  not  violate  the '"most  favored  nation  clause"  in 
our  treaties,  and  does  not  contain  an  affront  to  the  dignity  of 
any  nation.  Of  the  other  proposed  modifications  of  our 
immigration  laws,  the  one  that  has  in  its  favor  the  greatest 
weight  of  authority  proposes  that  examination  for  admissi- 
bility  to  this  country  be  made  on  the  other  side  of  the  ocean. 
There  more  facts  can  be  learned  about  the  prospective  immi- 
grant, more  time  can  be  spent  with  each  applicant  at  the 
several  points  of  examination  than  at  the  crowded  port  of 
New  York,  and  the  waste  of  hard-earned  savings,1  the  bitter 
disappointments  and  tragic  family  separations,  that  are  incident 
to  the  deportation  of  the  rejected  after  arrival  at  our  ports, 
can  be  avoided.  No  one  doubts  that  regulations  should  be 
strictly  enforced  for  the  exclusion  of  criminals,  paupers,  and 
those  suffering  from  communicable  diseases.  To  object  to 
the  literacy  test  on  the  ground  that  it  does  not  exclude  crim- 
inals and  paupers  is  entirely  beside  the  mark.  It  aims  pri- 
marily to  protect  the  standard  of  living ;  it  would  also  reduce 
the  volume  of  immigration  to  more  assimilable  dimensions ;  it 
would  act  selectively  in  favor  of  those  whose  customs  and 

1  Steamships  make  a  cursory  examination  of  third-class  passen- 
gers before  shipment,  and  they  are  obliged  to  return,  without 
charge,  to  port  of  embarkation,  those  refused  admittance  to  our 
shores. 


IMMIGRATION  275 

traditions  are  more  like  our  own,  and  those  who  are  in  race 
more  akin  to  the  present  population  of  America,  and  would 
reduce  the  substitution  of  new  population  elements  for  those 
already  settled  here.  It  would  not  impair  the  effectiveness  of 
laws  directly  prohibiting  the  admission  of  criminals  and 
paupers.  It  would  operate  to  exclude  a  disproportionately 
large  number  who  become  paupers. 

We  should  be  glad  to  provide  by  law  exceptional  privi- 
leges in  order  to  allow  the  entrance  of  persons  who  have  suf- 
fered from  special  political  or  religious  oppression. 

Whatever  regulations  may  hereafter  be  adopted,  the  num- 
ber of  our  newly  immigrated  fellow  citizens  and  their  chil- 
dren is,  and  will  continue  to  be,  vast.  Both  interest  and  duty 
require  us  to  treat  with  hospitality  and  helpfulness  those  whom 
our  laws  admit.  Our  opportunity  in  this  to  serve  mankind  is 
measureless  and  our  response  to  it  is  a  true  test  of  our  quality. 
The  spirit  that  expresses  itself  in  the  epithets  "Sheeny," 
"Dago,"  "Hunky"  and  "Mick"  is  not  the  one  that  promises 
fulfillment  of  the  best  possibilities  of  Americanism.  There 
was  reason  for  the  utterance  of  Dr.  Strong  when  he  said: 
"I  do  not  fear  foreigners  half  so  much  as  I  fear  Americans 
who  impose  on  them  and  brutally  abuse  them.  Such  Ameri- 
cans are  the  worst  enemies  of  our  institutions."  At  present 
the  immigrants  come  in  relatively  little  contact  with  the  best 
elements  of  our  civilization.  Their  second  generation  is  in 
important  respects  worse  than  the  new  arrivals.  They  settle 
for  the  most  part  in  foreign  colonies,  in  industrial  centers, 
near  mines,  and  in  construction  camps.  If  we  could  stir  in 
these  lumps  they  would  be  more  rapidly  dissolved  and  assimi- 
lated. There  is  need  to  increase  federal  activities  directed 
toward  disseminating  among  them  information  about  agri- 
cultural and  industrial  opportunities  and  toward  guiding  them 
away  from  the  congested  masses  in  which  they  inevitably 
increase  our  poverty  and  our  "problems,"  and  to  the  oppor- 
tunities for  prosperity,  usefulness,  and  social  achievement. 
The  public  school,  including  the  evening  school,  is  our  chief 
reliance  for  the  Americanization  of  the  immigrants.  They 
are  on  the  whole  more  eager  to  learn  the  true  meaning  and 


276  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

method  of  our  institutions  than  we  are  to  teach  them.  The 
institutional  church  with  its  classes  and  its  helpful  social  con- 
tacts and  the  social  settlement,  can  render  an  invaluable 
service.  They  call  for  the  enterprising  cooperation  of  Ameri- 
cans of  culture  and  leisure. 


CHAPTER  XVI 
ACQUIRED    POPULATION-TRAITS    AND    PUBLIC    HEALTH 

Are  Acquired  Characteristics  Inherited? — There  are  two 
other  developments  of  biological  theory  which  have  important 
applications  to  sociology :  the  doctrine  of  the  non-inheritability 
of  acquired  characteristics,  which  is  associated  with  the  name 
of  Weissmann ;  and  the  doctrine  of  mutation,  which  is,  asso- 
ciated with  the  name  of  DeVries. 

The  hypothesis  that  acquired  characteristics  are  not  in- 
herited at  present  prevails  among  biologists,  and  appears  to  be 
universally  adopted  by  those  biologists  whose  study  is  spe- 
cifically in  the  field  of  heredity.  The  man  who  has  lost  a 
limb  does  not  beget  one-legged  or  one-armed  children.  Mutila- 
tions which  some  races  have  practiced  for  many  generations 
leave  no  mark  upon  their  offspring.  If  the  germ  cells  of  cats 
or  mice  lack  the  determinant  that  makes  the  tail  grow  we 
shall  get  tailless  kittens  or  litters  of  tailless  mice;  but  it  is 
found  that  if  we  cut  off  the  tails  of  twenty  successive  genera- 
tions of  mice  having  normal  germ  cells  the  twenty-first  genera- 
tion has  tails  as  long  as  were  possessed  by  their  remote  ances- 
tors. The  developing  organism  sets  aside. a  part  of  its  sub- 
stance as  germ  cells  for  purposes  of  reproduction;  the  re- 
mainder, or  somatic  cells,  multiply  and  differentiate  into  the 
developed  body.  Inheritance  is  from  the  germ  cells  alone. 
The  t  son  of  the  blacksmith  will  have  a  strong  arm  because 
his  father  would  not  have  chosen  the  blacksmith's  trade  if  he 
had  not  belonged  to  a  strong  stock,  and  the  son  will  inherit 
the  strength  of  the  stock  but  he  will  inherit  none  of  the 
strength  that  his  father  gained  by  beating  the  anvil.  A  child 
does  not  inherit  his  arms  from  his  father's  arms,  and  his 
brain  from  his  father's  brain,  but  inherits  all  from  his  father's 
germ  cells,  and  only  that  which  is  in  the  germ  cells  can  be 

277 


278  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

handed  on  by  inheritance.  A  part  of  the  determiners  which 
the  father  inherited  were  used  up  in  the  development  of  his 
own  body;  another  part  of  them  multiplied  as  germ  cells, 
to  unite  with  maternal  germ  plasm  and  form  offspring.  The 
body  can  be  modified  by  exercise  and  accident,  but  the  germ 
cells  can  hardly  be  affected.  They  are  nature's  citadel,  guarded 
to  the  utmost  against  those  effects  which  are  produced  upon 
the  bodies  of  those  who  carry  them.  It  is  well  that  this  is 
so,  for  if  the  changes  that  affect  the  body  of  a  man  during 
the  vicissitudes  of  life  were  to  reach  the  germ  cells  he  bears 
and  be  handed  on  to  all  succeeding  generations  of  his  offspring, 
what  abnormalities  would  the  race  accumulate !  It  is  true  that  a 
few  causes  of  modification  may  penetrate  even  the  germ  cells. 
If  the  body  of  a  man  or  woman  is  habitually  saturated  with 
a  poison,  as  alcohol  or  lead  or  the  toxins  of  syphilis,  the 
germ  cells  may  be  rendered  incapable  of  developing  in- 
to normal  offspring.  The  taste  for  alcohol  will  not  be 
specifically  inherited  on  that  account,  though  the  neuras- 
thenia that  craves  stimulants  may  be;  and  the  germs  of 
syphilis  will  not  be  inherited,  though  a  variety  of  hide- 
ous abnormalities  may  result  from  the  poisoning  of  the 
germ  cells  and  prenatal  infection  with  syphilis  may  take 
place. 

The  only  variations  that  are  hereditary  are  variations  in 
the  germ  cells  themselves.  These  variations  are  ever  taking 
place.  Pups  of  the  same  litter  vary  because  there  were  varia- 
tions between  the  fertilized  ova  from  which  they  have  de- 
veloped. Two  fertilized  ova  of  the  same  parentage  differ* 
again  because  each  fertilized  ovum  results  from  the  union 
of  two  cells ;  one  bundle  of  characteristics  has  been  chosen  out 
of  double  the  amount  of  materials  required,  and  in  no  two 
cases,  even  in  the  same  litter,  need  the  selection  be  the  same. 
They  vary  also  for  other  subtle  reasons.  As  the  breeder 
drowns  the  pups  that  do  not  conform  to  his  standard  and 
breeds  from  the  rest,  so  natural  selection  eliminates  those 
individuals  that  do  not  conform  to  the  requirements  for  suc- 
cess in  the  struggle  for  survival.  Thus  the  development  and 
maintenance  of  the  types  which  nature  demands  are  secured 


ACQUIRED  POPULATION-TRAITS  279 

without  the  necessity  of  any  inheritance  of  traits  acquired 
during  the  lifetime  of  the  parents. 

There  are  many  who  think  that  social  progress  will  result 
from  the  hereditary  accumulation  of  the  effects  of  education 
but  this  is  contrary  to  the  doctrine  just  set  forth.  The  boy 
whose  ancestors  for  generations  have  learned  Greek  has  as 
much  trouble  with  the  Greek  alphabet  as  did  his  great-grand- 
father. Musical  talent  is  hereditary,  but  the  results  of  prac- 
ticing five-finger  exercises  are  not.  It  is  an  incalculable  advan- 
tage to  grow  up  in  a  home  of  culture,  but  the  parental  culture 
is  not  transmitted  by  the  germ  cells.  The  negro  does  not 
inherit  the  effects  of  generations  of  slavery,  but  he  is  born 
into  a  social  situation  that  is  made  worse  by  the  fact  that. his 
ancestors  were  slaves.  Generations  of  education  will  not  cause 
the  negro  to  be  born  other  than  his  ancestors  in  Africa  were. 
Natural  selection  in  a  new  environment  may  somewhat  modify 
his  type.  The  fact  that  the  Chinese  have  been  a  culture  people 
for  ages  will  not  cause  them  to  outrival  the  nations  of  western 
Europe  when  they  adopt  the  methods  of  western  civilization. 

Does  the  Type  of  Humanity  Advance  I1 — It  was  once  thought 
that  evolution  proceeded  by  the  accumulation  of  infinitesimal 
variations.  But  in  order  for  natural  selection  to  operate 
there  must  be  a  difference  between  the  fitter  and  the  less  fit, 
which  is  not  infinitesimal  but  great  enough  to  be  a  decided 
advantage  in  the  struggle  for  survival.  Mr.  Burbank  does 
not  produce  a  new  variety  by  the  accumulation  through  ages 
of  infinitesimal  variations,  but  by  selecting  for  propagation  the 
occasional  freak  of  nature.  The  change,  in  order  to  be  a 
contribution  to  evolution,  must  be  not  only  a  difference  in 
the  developed  body  such  as  might  be  caused  by  better  nutri- 
tion or  acquired  by  the  practice  of  a  new  mode  of  life,  but 
it  must  be  a  variation  in  the  germ  cells.  Then  it  can  be  per- 
petuated by  heredity.  A  significant  change  in  the  determiners 
contained  in  the  germ  cells,  revealing  itself  in  the  developed 
bodies  of  successive  generations,  is  called  a  "mutation."  Muta- 
tions are  more  frequent  in  the  lower  organisms  and  some, 
if  not  all,  species  which  persist  through  geologic  ages  appear 

1  See  p.  243. 


280  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

to  have  passed  through  a  mutable  period  before  becoming 
relatively  fixed.  .  But  mutations  are  rare  in  a  mature  species. 
Moreover,  variation,  when  it  takes  place  in  a  species  already 
highly  developed,  is  far  more  likely  to  diminish  fitness  for 
survival  than  to  increase  it.  Finally,  each  highly  developed 
species  has,  so  to  speak,  specialized  upon  certain  peculiarities 
of  structure  which  it  may  carry  to  an  extreme  beyond  which 
they  cannot  be  evolved  without  becoming  a  disadvantage  in- 
stead of  an  advantage.  It  has  been  suggested  that  in  man 
the  sensitiveness  and  complexity  of  the  nervous  system,  which 
is  the  biological  specialty  of  the  genus  Homo,  has  been  carried 
to  a  point  beyond  which  it  cannot  go  without  excessive  lia- 
bility to  break  down. 

According  to  these  conceptions,  a  mature  and  highly  de- 
veloped species  may  remain  through  a  geologic  period  as  fixed 
as  species  were  supposed  to  be  in  the  days  of  Linnaeus  before 
the  fact  of  evolution  was  discovered.  The  notion  that  species 
are  continually  accumulating  infinitesimal  improvements  has 
allowed  some  to  dream  that  the  time  will  come  when  men  will 
be  born  saints  and  angels.  But  there  now  appears  to  be  no 
scientific  basis  for  the  idea  that  the  present  rich  complexity 
of  human  endowment  will  ever  be  materially  exceeded. 
Neither  is  there  any  reason  for  supposing  that  the  Chinaman 
of  to-day  is  materially  better  born  than  was  Confucius,  or 
the  Greek  of  to-day  better  born  than  were  Aristotle  and 
Pericles,  or  the  Hebrew  of  to-day  better  born  than  were 
Moses  and  Abraham,  or  the  Egyptian  of  to-day  better  born 
than  were  the  builders  of  the  pyramids,  or  the  Mesopotamian 
of  to-day  better  born  than  were  the  architects  of  the  hanging 
gardens  of  Babylon,  or  the  Germans  and  Americans  of  to-day 
better  born  than  Germanicus  and  Agricola  and  Caracticus  or 
the  general  population  of  half-naked  savages  that  at  the 
dawn  of  European  history  roamed  through  the  northern 
forests.1 

1 F.  Ratzel :  History  of  Mankind.  Macmillan,  1896,  i,  18.  "We 
may  declare  in  the  most  decided  manner  that  the  conception  of  'nat- 
ural' races  includes  nothing  physiological  but  is  purely  one  of  civiliza- 
tion. Natural  races  are  nations  poor  in  culture.  .  .  .  The  old  Ger- 


ACQUIRED  POPULATION-TRAITS  281 

The  savage  who  invented  the  hollow,  bow-driven,  fire  drill 
may  have  been  as  highly  endowed  as  the  inventor  of  wireless 
telegraphy;  only  the«latter  has  been  preceded  by  the  discoverer 
of  Hertzian  waves,  and  by  a  thousand  other  investigators  of 
electricity. 

Biological  Evolution  and  Social  Evolution. — We  differ  from 
our  savage  ancestors  because  a  social  evolution  has  taken 
place,  an  evolution  of  sciences,  religions,  moral  judgments  and 
sentiments,  customs,  institutions,  practical  arts — in  one  word, 
of  activities,  of  which  they  were  by  birth  as  capable  as  we 
and  of  which  we  as  individuals  are  totally  incapable.  Which 
of  us,  if  he  were  born  into  a  group  of  savages,  would  ever 
have  a  coat  such  as  he  is  now  wearing?  Your  coat  implies 
a  thousand  inventions.  It  is  a  social  product.  Social  evolu- 
tion is  built  upon  biological  evolution,  as  a  superstructure  is 
built  upon  a  foundation.  It  is  as  distinct  from  biological 
evolution  as  that  is  from  the  evolution  studied  by  dynamic 
geology,  of  the  earth's  crust  upon  which  both  biological  and 
social  evolution  are  built.  Social  evolution  presents  a  dis- 
tinct object  for  investigation  as  truly  as  does  geologic  or 
biologic  evolution. 

The  Methods  of  Progress. — The  following  may  be  spoken 
of  as  the  five  methods  of  progress: 

1.  Biological    evolution    of    man.      This    may    be    said 
to  have  been  exhausted,  or  at  any  rate,  to  offer  no  ground 
of    expectation   on  which  one   is   justified  in   building   any 
hopes. 

2.  Eugenics.     Evolution  has  produced   new  types,   but 
eugenics  merely   seeks  more  general   conformity  to   a  type 
already  established,  as  the  breeder  rids  his  herd  of  scrubs 
and  grades  up  to  an  accepted  standard. 

3.  Euthenics,  or  the  provision  of  more  favorable  physical 
surroundings,  such  as  a  better  distribution  of  wealth,  better 

mans  and  Gauls  appeared  no  less  uncivilized  beside  Roman  civilization 
than  do  Kaffirs  or  Polynesians  beside  ours.  The  gap  which  differ- 
ences of  civilization  create  between  two  groups  of  human  beings  is  in 
truth  quite  independent,  whether  in  its  depth  or  in  its  breadth,  of  the 
differences  in  their  mental  endowments." 


282  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

housing,  hygienic  conditions  of  life  and  labor,  and  the  sup- 
pression of  destructive  microbes. 

4.  Education.     The  development  of  the  habits,  interests, 
skills,  sentiments  and  knowledge  of  the  individuals  so  that 
they  possess  and  embody  the  fruits  of  social  evolution. 

5.  Social    evolution.      Social    evolution    is    to    education 
somewhat  as  biological  evolution  is  to  eugenics.    Social  evolu- 
tion brings  into  existence  new  varieties  of  practical  arts,  of 
intellectual  concepts,  of  moral  judgments,  of  customs,  and  of 
institutions ;  education  causes  the  products  of  social  evolution 
to  prevail  among  the  population  so  that  individuals  conform 
to  the  social  type  which  the  race  has  attained.     But  social 
evolution  is  not  over.    Its  movement  is  at  its  height  and  shows 
no  likelihood  of  abatement. 

Preventable  Diseases. — Under  the  heading  of  acquired 
physical  traits  may  be  placed  nearly  all  the  diseases  that  affect 
mankind  and  the  results  of  maiming  accidents. 

According  to  the  Senate  report  on  National  Health  pre- 
pared in  1910  by  Professor  Irving  Fisher  it  is  estimated 
that  there  are  constantly  in  the  United  States  half  a  million 
persons  suffering  from  tuberculosis,  of  whom  about  half  are 
totally  incapacitated  and  the  remainder  are  able  to  earn  about 
half  what  they  would  otherwise  produce  and  receive.  More 
than  a  quarter  of  a  million  die  annually  from  this  cause. 
This  "great  white  plague  is,  of  all  diseases  common  to  man, 
the  most  widespread  and  the  most  deadly."  It  does  not  alarm 
us  by  an  occasional  epidemic,  but  is  a  constant  epidemic  to 
which  we  are  accustomed.  Its  ravages  are  greatest  among 
those  who  are  in  the  prime  of  life  and  in  the  midst  of  its 
responsibilities  and  opportunities.  Though  no  age  is  exempt, 
the  death  rate  from  tuberculosis  is  highest  between  the  ages 
of  twenty  and  thirty,  next  between  the  ages  of  thirty  and 
forty,  and  next  between  the  ages  of  forty  and  fifty.  One- 
fourth  of  all  the  deaths  of  men  in  the  United  States  between 
the  ages  of  eighteen  and  thirty-five  are  due  to  this  malady.1 

1  The  latest  available  figures  for  Illinois,  which  is  fairly  typical, 
show  that  of  the  deaths  between  the  ages  of  twenty  and  fifty  during  two 
years,  26.92  per  cent,  were  due  to  tuberculosis  of  the  lungs. 


ACQUIRED  POPULATION-TRAITS  283 

Tuberculosis  is  a  preventable  disease  and  in  its  earlier  stages 
a  curable  one.  Its  prevalence  is  decreasing  and  it  is  believed 
by  experts  on  the  subject  that  through  intelligent  social  co- 
operation it  will  ultimately  become  as  rare  as  smallpox.  It  is 
declared  by  some  students  of  the  subject  that  nine-tenths  of 
the  tuberculosis  is  caught  by  living  in  homes  that  have  been 
infected  by  the  sputum  and  cough-spray  of  an  infected  mem- 
ber of  the  family,  or  of  some  family  that  has  occupied  the 
house.  Proper  disinfection  of  infected  tenements  before  a 
new  family  moves  in  is  unusual.  A  single  infected  home  or 
tenement  is  sometimes  the  cause  of  half  a  score  of  deaths.1 
The  person  with  chronic  tuberculosis  or  slow  consumption 
who  walks  at  large,  unless  intelligent  and  right-minded  enough 
to  take  proper  precaution  against  communicating  'the  disease 
is  the  other  great  source  of  danger.2 

Pneumonia  causes  about  the  same  number  of  deaths  in 
this  country  as  does  tuberculosis,  but  not  so  many  weeks, 
months,  and  years  of  illness.  The  germs  of  pneumonia  prey 
upon  those  in  whom  the  resistant  power  of  the  mucous  mem- 
brane lining  the  air-passages  has  been  reduced  by  exposure,  by 
the  debility  resulting  from  overwork,  and  unsanitary  condi- 
tions of  life,  by  a  drunk,  or  by  the  habitual  use  of  small  quan- 
tities of  alcohol. 

There  are  annually  about  forty  thousand  cases  of  typhoid 
fever  in  the  United  States,  each  entailing  on  the  average 
seventy-five  days  of  incapacity,  of  which  one-eighth  are  fatal. 
There  should  be  practically  none.  The  germs  of  this  disease 
are  carried  chiefly  by  water,  milk  and  house-flies.3  In  Munich 

1  Fumigation  is  not  enough ;   scrubbing  with  a  weak  solution  of 
carbolic  acid  does  the  work. 

2  One  tuberculous  man  has  buried  three  wives  and  now  has  the 
fourth;  and  one  tuberculous  woman  has  buried  three  husbands  and 
nineteen  children  with  the  disease. 

3  In  Cleveland,  Ohio,  picked  schoolboys  were  organized  as  a  san- 
itary police  and  instructed  to  find  all  the  breeding-places  for  flies  and 
notify    owners,    and,    if    necessary,    authorities.     During    March    and 
April  ten  cents  a  hundred  was  offered  for  the  flies  found  in  attic  win- 
dows and  other  out-of-the-way  corners,  the  seed-bearers  for  the  next 
summer's  swarms.    The  result  was  that  after  two  years  thousands  of 


284  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

where  the  death  rate  from  typhoid  had  been  291  per  100,000 
of  population,  that  rate  was  reduced  97  per  cent,  by  replacing 
wretched  lack  of  system  by  a  good  system  of  wate*r-supply, 
and  sewerage.  Installation  of  a  water  filter  in  Lawrence,  Mas- 
sachusetts, reduced  the  deaths  from  this  cause  in  a  year  from 
105  to  22.  Dug  wells  in  cities  or  towns  are  usually  dangerous. 

Milk,  unless  it  is  sedulously  guarded  from  contamination, 
unless  instead  of  being  allowed  to  stand  on  doorsteps  after 
being  bottled,  it  is  kept  at  a  temperature  too  low  for  bac- 
terial reproduction,  swarms  with  microbes.  Impure  milk  is 
the  worst  cause  of  intestinal  disorders  among  children.  Only 
well-planned  social  cooperation  can  prevent  a  holocaust  of 
babies  in  the  cities  every  summer.  The  frightful  mortality  of 
children  under  five  years  of  age  has  been  reduced  in  recent 
years  but  it  is  still  needlessly  high.  Of  those  who  died  in 
the  registration  area  of  the  United  States  in  the  year  1910, 
26.98  per  cent,  were  under  five  years  of  age.  Infant  mor- 
tality can  scarcely  be  regarded  as  the  selection  of  the  fittest, 
for  the  causes  of  infant  mortality  here  discussed  carry  off  the 
strongest  of  children,  and  permanently  impair  the  vitality  of 
many  that  survive.  Even  if  the  limitation  of  population  were 
desirable,  child  mortality  would  be  a  shockingly  wasteful  means 
of  procuring  that  result,  wasteful  of  time,  money,  suffering, 
and  sorrow. 

Smallpox  has  been  practically  vanquished  wherever  vac- 
cination is  general.  A  different  vaccine  prevents  typhoid. 

Malaria,  once  a  frightful  scourge,  virtually  disappears 
before  intelligent  preventive  measures,  but  is  allowed  to  con- 
tinue its  ravages,  especially  in  certain  sections  of  the  South. 
Besides  the  suffering  it  directly  causes,  malaria  shortens  life 
by  predisposing  to  other  causes  of  death,  and  it  reduces  work- 
ing capacity  by  a  large  percentage.  The  number  of  persons 
suffering  from  it  annually  in  the  United  States  is  believed  to 
reach  three  millions.  This  is  practically  all  preventable. 

households  have  dispensed  entirely  with  screens  at  doors  and  win- 
dows, and  "a  recent  inspection  of  the  city  markets,  where  quantities  of 
meat  and  provisions  are  exposed,  found  only  two  flies."  The  Survey, 
Aug.  23,  1913. 


ACQUIRED  POPULATION-TRAITS  285 

Yellow  fever,  though  it  long  made  the  Panama  Canal  an 
impracticable  project  and  still  causes  many  deaths  in  our 
southern  states,  is  almost  entirely  preventable,  as  proved 
by  the  results  of  rigorous  government  measures  in  Panama 
and  Havana.  In  the  latter  city  during  the  eight  years,  includ- 
ing 1891  to  1898,  4,420  persons  died  of  yellow  fever.  In  1898 
the  United  States  intervened,  and  in  the  succeeding  eight 
years  there  were  but  465  deaths  from  yellow  fever,  and  nearly 
all  of  these  occurred  during  the  first  two  years  of  occupa- 
tion by  the  federal  authorities.  During  the  fifth,  sixth,  and 
seventh  years  of  federal  control  the  death  rate  from  yellow 
fever  was  reported  as  zero. 

Hookworm  is  another  disease  for  the  prevention  and  cure 
of  which  medical  and  sanitary  science  has  armed  us,  so  that 
its  elimination  has  now  become  a  problem  of  social  action. 
The  great  prevalence  of  this  ailment  in  the  whole  southern 
part  of  our  country,  the  large  mortality  which  it  causes,  and 
especially  the  incapacity  for  work  and  normal  living  which 
it  entails,  make  it  an  important  modifier  of  the  quality  of 
our  population. 

Over  certain  diseases  we  have  as  yet  no  adequate  con- 
trol. Such,  for  example,  are  diabetes,  Bright's  disease,  cancer 
and  certain  diseases  of  the  heart.  But  over  such  diseases  as 
tuberculosis,  typhoid  fever,  smallpox,  malaria,  yellow  fever, 
and  hookworm,  we  have  acquired  the  means  of  control.  The 
discovery  of  methods  of  preventing  disease  is  wholly  a  mat- 
ter for  other  sciences  than  sociology.  But  the  practical  applica- 
tion of  these  methods  on  a  significant  scale,  after  they  have 
been  discovered,  is  not  a  matter  for  the  medical  profession 
alone,  but  depends  upon  organized  social  cooperation,  by  the 
agency  of  government,  school,  press,  and  specially*  created 


organs. 

Losses  Due  to  Preventable  Disease. — It  is  estimated  that 
those  who  die  needless,  that  is  to  say,  preventable,  deaths 
in  one  year  in  the  United  States,  if  they  had  fulfilled  the 
ordinary  expectation  of  life  remaining  to  them,  would  have 
produced  and  earned  $1,000,000,000.  There  are  always  3,000,- 
ooo  persons  on  the  sick  list.  If  only  one-fourth  of  them 


286  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

are  workers  of  all  grades,  and  if  their  average  earnings  are 
only  $700,  the  annual  loss  of  their  earnings  amounts  to  more 
than  $500,000,000.  The  extra  expenses  entailed  by  sickness 
amount  to  $500,000,000  more.  Assuming  that  at  least  half  of 
this  illness  is  preventable  we  must  add  an  annual  preventable 
loss  by  sickness  of  $500,000,000  to  the  annual  preventable 
loss  of  one  billion  which  is  caused  by  needless  death,  and  have 
"one  and  a  half  billions  as  the  very  lowest  at  which  we  can 
estimate  the  annual  preventable  loss  from  disease  and  death 
in  this  country.  The  true  figures  may  well  amount  to  several 
times  this  amount." 1  Possibly  the  loss  to  the  country  is 
diminished  by  the  fact  that  part  of  the  work  that  these  dead 
and  sick  would  have  done  is  after  all  done  by  others.  But 
there  can  be  no  doubt  about  the  loss  to  the  particular  families 
in  which  the  needless  illness  occurs. 

Social  cooperation  for  the  conservation  of  health  costs 
something.  But  experience  in  combating  infant  mortality, 
yellow  fever,  hookworm,  and  other  enemies  of  life  and  health, 
has  indicated  that  the  return  on  the  money  so  invested  is 
often  several  thousand  per  cent,  per  annum.  An  actuary 
suggests  that  if  insurance  companies  should  combine  to  con- 
tribute for  the  purpose  of  improving  the  public  health  one- 
eighth  of  one  per  cent,  of  the  premiums  which  they  receive, 
it  would  be  reasonable  to  expect  a  decrease  in  death  claims 
of  much  more  than  one  per  cent.  Even  this  one  per  cent, 
would  make  a  profit  of  more  than  seven  times  the  expense. 

In  the  foregoing  no  account  has  been  made  of  the  $ioo,~ 
000,000  or  over  that  the  public  annually  expends  in  the  care 
of  the  insane,  feeble-minded  and  other  defectives  as  defec- 
tives, nor  of  the  vast  sums  which  are  paid  for  their  care  as 
paupers  and  as  criminals. 

It  would  be  absurd  to  stop  with  estimating  the  money 
cost  of  sickness  and  death.  Neither  is  the  account  completed 
when  we  remember  the  suffering  and  sorrow  which  they  di- 
rectly cause.  The  loss  or  disabling  of  breadwinners  through 
preventable  sickness  and  death  is  one  of  the  chief  causes  of 
the  breakdown  of  families,  of  the  pathetic  struggle  of  widows, 

1  Irving  Fisher :   National  Vitality.    Senate  Document  No.  676. 


ACQUIRED  POPULATION-TRAITS  287 

of  the  street  trades  of  children,  of  pauperization,  of  the  failure 
properly  to  rear  the  boys  and  girls  of  such  families,  and  of 
consequent  ignorance,  shiftlessness,  poverty,  vagrancy  and 
crime.  A  large  proportion  of  the  wretchedness  and  perver- 
sion faced  by  the  charity  worker  and  the  juvenile  court  is 
traceable  to  this  cause,  as  well  as  of  the  riper  ruin  assembled 
in  the  almshouse  and  the  penitentiary. 

Occupation  and  Disease. — Mention  has  already  been  made 
of  the  half-million  who  are  annually  killed  or  maimed  in  the 
United  States  by  industrial  accidents,  of  which  a  large  part 
are  preventable.  And  in  discussing  the  relation  between  pov- 
erty and  health  some  comment  was  made  upon  the  increased 
liability  to  disease  among  those  who  work  in  unsanitary  sur- 
roundings. Probably  the  most  serious  occupational  foes  to 
health  are  vitiated  air  and  excessive  fatigue. 

The  dust  from  stone-cutting,  metal-grinding  and  the  like, 
and  the  lint  of  textile  mills,  unless  precautions  are  observed, 
so  fill  the  lungs  as  to  destroy  the  health  of  many  of  the  work- 
ers. High  temperatures,  involving  sudden  changes  of  tem- 
perature in  leaving  the  works  on  winter  nights,  and  the  ex- 
cessive dryness  or  excessive  moisture  accompanying  certain 
processes  of  manufacture  undermine  the  power  to  resist  the 
attacks  of  omnipresent  microbes.  Poisonous  gases  and  chem- 
ical fumes  in  dye  houses,  paint  factories  and  other  work  places 
have  injurious  and  in  thousands  of  cases  fatal  results.  We 
may  not  quarrel  with  the  inevitable,  but  most  of  the  loss  of 
health  and  life  thus  occasioned  is  not  inevitable  but  is  pre- 
ventable by  the  use  of  suction  tubes  to  carry  dust  from  the 
point  where  it  rises,  hoods  with  forced  drafts  and  other 
devices. 

Fatigue  so  great  that  the  sleep  of  night  does  not  remove 
it  and  which  accumulates  from  day  to  day  and  month  to  month 
diminishes  economic  efficiency,  as  well  as  resistance  to  disease 
and  to  moral  temptation.  It  increases  liability  to  accident. 
Industrial  accidents  occur  largely  during  the  last  hours  of  the 
day's  work,  when  watchfulness  and  agility  are  diminished. 
Employers  have  found  that,  in  some  industries  at  least,  an 
eight-hour  day  is  as  productive  as  a  longer  day,  partly  because 


288  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

of  the  increased  swiftness  and  vigor  with  which  the  work 
goes  on  and  partly  because  of  the  lessened  losses  of  the  last 
hours  of  the  day  through  spoiled  materials,  broken  tools  and 
machinery,  and  injured  laborers. 

Seven-day  labor,  twelve-hour  shifts,  or  ten  hours  with  ex- 
cessive speeding  up  of  machinery  which  requires  the  constant 
repetition  of  swift  movements  by  the  operators,  and  piece- 
work at  wages  so  low  that  only  immoderate  striving  after 
speed  will  yield  a  livelihood,  impair  population  quality.  The 
Senate  report  by  Professor  Fisher  which  contained  the  esti- 
mate that  one  and  a  half  billions  annually  is  the  minimum 
cost  of  preventable  illness  and  death,  contains  also  (p.  669) 
the  statement  that  the  economic  waste  from  undue  fatigue 
is  probably  much  greater  than  the  waste  from  serious  illness. 
The  number  that  suffer  partial  disability  through  undue 
fatigue  certainly  constitutes  the  great  majority  of  the  popula- 
tion. Yet  if  only  50  per  cent,  of  the  population  are  suffering 
an  impairment  equal  to  only  10  per  cent,  of  its  working  pow- 
ers, the  result  is  equivalent  to  5  per  cent,  of  the  population 
suffering  total  impairment. 

Stunted  Youth. — Mothers  who  work  all  day  in  factories 
almost  up  to  the  hour  of  birth  of  their  children  rob  the  com- 
ing generation.  Excessive  speed  and  long  hours  make  the 
evil  worse.  Laws  limiting  the  hours  of  labor  for  men  are 
generally  regarded  as  unconstitutional  on  the  ground  that  a 
man's  freedom  must  not  be  abridged  and  he  must  be  allowed 
to  work  as  many  hours  as  he  chooses.  The  excessive  hours 
of  labor  on  the  part  of  men  in  factories  are  not  in  reality 
matters  of  freedom  and  choice,  but  of  economic  compulsion 
from  which  they  might  properly  be  defended  by  law.  But 
thus  far  the  eight-hour  day  for  men,  in  so  far  as  it  prevails, 
has  not  been  obtained  by  law  but  by  the  unions.  Recently, 
however,  the  constitutionality  of  limiting  the  hours  of  labor 
for  women  has  been  upheld  on  the  ground  of  the  necessity 
of  defending  the  population  quality.  Limitation  of  the  hours 
of  juvenile  laborers  is  not  open  to  the  constitutional  objec- 
tion of  abridging  freedom,  since  children  are  not  legally  held 
to  have  attained  freedom. 


ACQUIRED  POPULATION-TRAITS  289 

The  neglect  of  children  after  their  birth  by  mothers  who 
are  obliged  to  work  for  wages  occasions  even  more  serious 
injury  than  does  the  labor  of  expectant  mothers,  and  the 
injury  is  moral  as  well  as  physical.  Schools,  kindergartens, 
and  day  nurseries  palliate  this  evil,  but  the  care  of  children 
by  their  mothers  is  the  norm  toward  which  society  should 
work.  There  is  no  substitute  for  it  which  serves  the  pur- 
pose with  regard  either  to  the  welfare  of  the  child  or  to  that 
of  the  mother. 

There  ought  to  be  abundant  and  free  opportunity  for  un- 
married women  to  secure  adequate  profitable  employment. 
Yet  some  query  must  arise  in  the  mind  at  this  point  with 
reference  to  the  present  enthusiasm  for  extending  the  indus- 
trial sphere  of  women,  or  rather  for  substituting  newer  occu- 
pations for  her  traditional  office. 

Child  labor  is  not  yet  adequately  prevented.  Where  laws 
on  the  subject  are  best  their  enforcement  is  not  complete. 
And  those  states  where  the  child-employing  industries  are 
most  prominent  are  the  very  ones  where  it  is  most  difficult 
to  pass  such  laws,  as  well  as  to  enforce  such  laws. 

Unsanitary  conditions  that  affect  the  health  of  adults  may 
affect  still  more  unfavorably  the  health  of  children.  Injury 
to  those  who  have  not  attained  their  growth  may  prevent 
them  from  ever  attaining  what  would  have  been  their  normal 
development.  And  as  the  corn-stock  that  grows  by  the  road- 
side may  mature  no  seed,  so  also,  notwithstanding  nature's 
vigilant  guard  of  her  citadel,  the  ge,rm  cells,  generations  of 
stunted  youth  may  permanently  impair  the  racial  quality. 

School  Hygiene.1 — The  United  States  has  remained  behind 
the  procession  of  advanced  nations  in  the  matter  of  school 
hygiene.  We  compel  the  children  to  attend  school  for  years 
and  often  we  require  them  to  do  so  under  conditions  which 
expose  them  excessively  to  contagious  diseases  and  to  still 
greater  injury  through  imperfect  heating,  lighting,  ventilation, 
and  sanitation.  We  ought,  while  we  have  practically  the~whole 
rising  generation  in  hand,  to  help  to  lay  the  foundation  for 
health  and  to  remove  the  handicaps  which  as  years  pass  will 

1  Irving  Fisher ;  National  Vitality,  p.  694. 


290  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

otherwise  undermine  their  welfare  and  efficiency.  Dr.  Cronin 
has  maintained  that  of  the  650,000  schoolchildren  of  New 
York  30  per  cent,  were  from  one  to  two  years  behind  their 
proper  class,  and  that  95  per  cent,  of  those  retarded  were  so 
principally  because  of  defects  of  eye,  ear,  throat,  or  noser 
including  adenoids  and  enlarged  tonsils  which  could  easily  be 
detected  and  remedied.  Dr.  Osier  calculated  that  in  New 
York  City  an  annual  financial  loss  of  $1,666,666  results  from 
lack  of  medical  supervision  of  schools  on  account  of  the 
lengthened  time  which  retarded  children  require  in  passing 
a  given  number  of  grades  and  that  "the  loss  which  came  from 
moral  deviation  due  to  defective  physical  functioning  was  of 
far  greater  importance."  Besides  the  defects  just  named, 
imperfection  of  the  teeth  of  schoolchildren,  preventing  proper 
mastication  and  laymgtne  foundation  for  indigestion,  malnu- 
trition, and  stunted  development  are  so  important  that  in  the 
opinion  of  high  authority  their  treatment  through  inspection 
of  schools  presents  a  national  problem  of  the  very  first  im- 
portance. A  "committee  on  the  physical  welfare  of  school- 
children reported  that  in  New  York  City  66  per  cent,  of  the 
schoolchildren  needed  medical  or  surgical  attention  or  better 
nourishment."  * 

Truancy,  incorrigibility,  retardation,  and  final  physical  or 
moral  breakdown  result  from  the  physical  handicaps  which 
might  be  removed  during  childhood.  No  school  should 
be  without  efficient  or  specially  instructed  medical  inspec- 
tion. 

Indoor  occupation,  with  eyes  focused  upon  small,  near 
objects,' such  as  print,  with  mental  strain  and  the  stimulus  of 
rank  and  demerits,  make  a  most  unnatural  life  for  the 
child.  There  is  good  evidence  that  our  younger  schoolchildren 
could  accomplish  quite  as  much  if  the  hours  of  school  con- 
finement were  materially  shortened.  Parents  who  want  their 
children  taken  care  of  oppose  this  shortening  of  hours.  It 

1  In  1914  Dr.  Wade  Macmillan,  of  Cincinnati,  initiated  a  move- 
ment to  induce  members  of  mothers'  clubs,  connected  with  the  public 
schools,  to  bring  to  free  clinics  their  children  below  school  age,  in  order 
to  detect  defects  when  cure  is  easiest  and  the  preventive  effect  most 
complete. 


ACQUIRED  POPULATION-TRAITS  291 

would  be  far  better  to  care  for  the  children  a  portion  of 
the  time  on  supervised  playgrounds.  Social  welfare  will 
ultimately  demand  that  there  be  space  on  a  playground  for 
every  boy  and  girl. 

Socialization  of  Medical  Science. — The  physical  examina- 
tion of  employees  in  large  establishments  •  is  being  promoted 
mainly  as  a  form  of  "welfare  work."  The  laboring  man  is 
not  likely  to  incur  the  expense  of  consulting  a  physician  until 
he  is  sure  of  serious  illness.  In  the  case  of  some  diseases, 
particularly  tuberculosis,  the  special  foe  of  the  laboring  man, 
he  often  does  not  suspect  the  presence  of  serious  disease  until 
the  proper  time  for  curative  treatment  has  passed.  Conse- 
quently he  does  not  seek  examination  in  time;  the  examiner 
must  seek  him  at  intervals. 

Half  the  states  of  the  Union  now  require  children  to 
pass  a  physical  examination  before  receiving  the  certificate 
permitting  them  under  the  child  labor  law  to  seek  employ- 
ment. There  is  wide  difference  in  the  efficiency  with  which 
such  laws  are  carried  out,  but  they  are  designed  to  discover* 
in  time  defects  which  should  preclude  certain  dangerous  occu- 
pations. 

These  industrial  examinations,  the  necessity  for  the  med- 
ical examination  of  schoolchildren,  and  especially  the  pre- 
ventability  of  the  various  forms  of  disease  and  death  above 
discussed,  obviously  suggest  the  extension  of  our  idea  of^the 
work  of  municipal,  state,  and  national  boards  of  health.  The 
inadequacy  of  public  health  activities  is  in  many  instances  far- 
cical. A  community  that  supports  fifty  to  one  hundred  physi- 
cians engaged  in  treating  those  who  are  already  ailing  has 
usually  not  one  whose  main  business  is  prevention  of  disease. 
This  is  absurd.  A  local  health  officer,  among  other  functions, 
should  aim  to  secure  truthful  statistics  of  the  causes  of  all 
deaths,1  to  identify  when  possible  the  particular  sources  of 
contagion  whenever  contagious  diseases  appear,  and  suppress 
them  instead  of  allowing  them  to  multiply  victims,  to  guard 
against  the  familiar  and  recurrent  sources  of  contagion,  and 
to  provide  industrial  and  school  inspection  and  examination 

1  One  of  our  crying  needs  is  for  adequate  and  reliable  statistics. 


292  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

of  applicants  for  marriage  licenses.  Medical  science  will  not 
always  be  regarded  chiefly  as  the  means  by  which  a  learned 
profession  obtains  a  livelihood  and  by  which  those  al- 
ready very  ill  seek  for  relief,  but  rather  as  the  means 
by  which  society  seeks  to  prevent  unnecessary  illness  and 
deaths. 

Drugging. — Alcohol  has  the  power  to  produce  a  tem- 
porary feeling  of  exhilaration,  followed  by  reaction.  The 
exhilaration  x  may  go  to  the  extent  of  insanity,  the  reaction 
is  felt  in  drowsiness  culminating  in  stupor,  or  if  the  doses  are 
large  and  frequent,  in  depression  culminating  in  delirium.  The 
reaction  is  wont  to  be  accompanied  by  craving  for  restimula- 
tion,  and  habitual  use  of  alcohol  produces  a  disease  charac- 
terized by  persistent  and  often  insatiable  and  uncontrollable 
craving  for  the  drug. 

Arctic  explorers  find  that  although  alcohol  produces  a  tem- 
porary glow  of  the  skin,  it  is  followed  by  diminution  of  vital 
heat  and  impaired  ability  to  resist  prolonged  cold.  Athletes 
and  superintendents  of  gangs  of  laborers  find  that  it  lessens 
power  to  endure  protracted  exertion.  Railroad  companies  and 
other  large  employers  of  labor  have  begun  to  insist  upon 
sobriety  as  a  condition  of  retaining  workmen,  as  a  means  of 
increasing  regularity  and  capacity  in  work,  as  well  as  of  pre- 
venting accidents  to  passengers,  machinery,  materials,  and 
to  the  employees  themselves,  for  whose  safety  modern  legis- 
lation makes  the  employer  to  some  degree  responsible.  The 
habitual  use  of  alcohol  even  in  small  quantities  reduces  the 
power  to  resist  diseases,  so  that  the  most  robust-appearing 
drinkers  die  when  abstainers  would  recover.  Insurance  com- 
panies by  an  extended  experience  find  that  even  among  "good 
risks"  the  average  expectation  of  life  for  the  insured  who 

1  Experiments  seem  to  show  that  even  during  the  period  which 
precedes  exhaustion  or  so-called  "reaction"  the  feeling  of  exhilaration 
produced  by  alcohol  is  accompanied  by  actual  diminution  of  muscular 
and  mental  efficiency.  Apparently  the  visceral  disturbance  is  felt  as 
exhilaration,  but  the  muscular  and  nervous  -disturbance  is  in  fact  an 
impairment  of  powers.  There  is,  however,  a  secondary  effect  on  the 
powers,  in  that  to  think  oneself  able  tends  to  increase  ability. 


ACQUIRED  POPULATION-TRAITS  293 

habitually  drink  alcohol  even  in  small  quantities  is  less  by  25 
per  cent,  or  more  than  for  total  abstainers.1 

The  use  of  alcohol  is  one  of  the  constant  and  unmistakable 
causes  of  both  pauperism  and  crime.  It  is  difficult  to  sepa- 
rate the  part  played  by  drink  from  that  of  other  causes  of 
these  evils,  for  drink  allies  itself  with  all  other  causes  of  pau- 
perism and  of  crime,  but  that  it  is  one  of  the  great  factors  in 
their  causation  no  competent  person  doubts.  Alcoholism  is 
one  of  the  prominent  causes  of  insanity.  It  is  also  one  of 
the  chief  recognizable  causes  of  hereditary  defect;  not  that 
the  desire  for  liquor  is  specifically  inheritable,  but  that  the 
germ  cells  poisoned  by  extreme  use  of  alcohol  fail  in  various 
ways  to  produce  normal  offspring. 

The  absence  of  normal  vigor  and  cheer  increase  the  crav- 
ing for  artificial  stimulation.  This  lack  may  be  due  to  con- 
stitutional weakness  or  to  the  exhaustion  caused  by  excessive 
toil  or  to  insufficient  and  improper  food  or  to  lack  of  cheerful 
surroundings  and  normal  joys.  Thus  poverty  increases  drunk- 
enness, as  it  does  most  other  evils.  The  strong,  well-sur- 
rounded and  well-employed  have  no  excuse  for  drugging. 

The  reduction  of  alcoholism,  like  the  other  forms  of  popu- 
lation deterioration  which  have  been  discussed,  is  mainly  a 
social  problem.  Fashion  2  is  largely  responsible  for  the  use  of 

1  This  does  not  mean  that  one-fourth  of  the  deaths  among  adult 
drinkers  are  caused  by  alcohol,  but  that  alcohol  combines  with  other 
causes  to  produce  death  which  neither  the  alcohol  nor  the  other  cause 
would  by  itself  have  produced;  it  also  means  that  drinkers  are  more 
likely  than  abstainers  to  lead  irregular  lives  in  other  respects. 

2  Charles    Booth,  an  author  not   inclined  to  exaggeration,   writes 
(Pauperism,  p.  141)  :     "Drink  must  be  accounted  the  most  prolific  of 
all  the  causes    (of  pauperism),  and  it  is  the  least  necessary.     It  is 
hardly  too  much   to    say  that   it  is  principally  a  matter  of    fashion. 
Among  the  upper  classes   the   fashion  of   drinking  has  passed  or  is 
passing  away    [England].     Among  the   middle  classes  it  is   accepted 
rather  as  a  social  necessity  than  as  a  desirable  personal  indulgence. 
Men  meet  and  adjourn  for  a  drink  to  which  one  must  treat  the  other, 
but  which  both  would  as  soon,  or  perhaps  rather,  be  without.     The 
whole  thing  is  so  baseless  that  it  is  conceivable  it  might  very  rapidly 
come  to  an  end."     This  is   also  the  theme  of  Jack  London's  novel 
"John  Barleycorn." 


294  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

alcoholic  drinks.  Where  strong  drink  is  regarded  as  the  nat- 
ural accompaniment  of  a  good  time,  where  "What'll  you 
have?"  is  the  hail  of  the  "good  fellow,"  where  the  traditions 
of  hospitality  demand  the  offering  of  alcoholic  drinks,  and 
"society"  sanctions  and  almost  requires  their  use,  there  lives 
will  be  shortened,  careers  will  be  blasted,  and  children  will  be 
born  to  defect  and  depravity  on  this  account.  And  if  the 
more  privileged  classes  thus  support  its  use,  they  make  it 
harder  for  the  less  fortunate  classes  that  suffer  most  from 
its  ravages,  to  break  the  tradition;  whereas  they  might  lend 
powerful  aid  by  their  example.  The  older  nations,  where  the 

st  susceptible  have  to  some  extent  been  eliminated  by  ages 
of  exposure  to  the  evil,  where  national  liquors  are  mild,  where 
the  climate  itself  is  not  an  exhausting  stimulant,  are  neverthe- 
less beginning  to  exert  the  powers  of  government  and  high 
scientific  and  social  influence  to  combat  the  ravages  of  alco- 
holism. Our  younger  nation  which  has  suffered  incalculably 
from  this  cause  and  does  so  still,  is  fortunate  in  that  there 
is  marked  progress  toward  the  removal  of  social  sanction 
from  this  insidious  indulgence.  / 

The  most  effective  means  for  curing  the  diseases  of  alco- 
holism is  the  government  hospital  where  the  patient  can  be 
compelled  to  remain  long  enough  to  allow  hygienic  and  moral 
treatment  to  be  adequately  applied. 

Besides  alcohol  various  other  drugs,  especially  opium  and 
its  derivatives,  are  used  to  the  injury  of  population  quality. 
This  calls  for  laws  providing  for  careful  supervision  of  the 
sale  of  poisons,  and  strong  social  disapproval  of  these  vices 
and  of  those  who  promote  them  commercially.  The  sale  of 
patent  medicines  that  depend  for  their  stimulating  and  cheer- 
ing effect  upon  the  harmful  drugs  which  they  contain  is  one 
of  the  means  of  spreading  drug  habits.  Probably  some  good 
medicines  have  been  patented,  but  on  the  whole  patent  medi- 
cines deserve  their  name  of  the  "Great  American  Humbug," 
and  the  harm  they  do  to  our  population  quality  is  not  limited 
to  the  spread  of  drug  habits.  The  advertising  of  harmful 
medicines,  of  deceitful  quacks,  and  the  publication  of  adver- 
tisements calculated  to  promote  sexual,  vice,  are  heavy  sina 


./L. 


ACQUIRED  POPULATION-TRAITS  295 

chargeable  to  the  press,  not  however  without  honorable  ex- 
ceptions. 

Venereal  Disease. — It  is  estimated  by  Dr.  Price  A.  Morrow 
that  there  are  two  million  syphilitics  in  the  United  States. 
Gonorrhea  is  far  more  prevalent  still. 

1.  Syphilis,  while  mostly  caused  by  cohabitation  with  an 
infected  person,  may  also  be  communicated  by  a  kiss,  or  by 
the  medium  of  a  towel,  drinking  glass,  or  other  object  that 
has  been  in  contact  with  the  saliva  or  other  secretions.   Many 
cases  treated  early  show  no  serious  immediate  consequences, 
but  retain  the  power  to  transmit  the  disease  to  others  even 
after  years  have  passed.     Other  cases  are  fatal  in  spite  of 
treatment.     In  other  cases  still  apoplexy,  paralysis,  softening 
of  the  brain,  or  locomotor  ataxia  result,  perhaps  not  until 
after  the  man  has  acquired  a  family  dependent  on  him  for 
support.     Softening  of  the  brain  from  syphilis  or  paresis  is  a 
common  cause  of  insanity.     The  poison  of  syphilis  is  one  of 
the  few  that  attack  even  the  germ  cells.    Children  of  a  syph- 
ilitic may  die  before  birth  or  be  born  to  a  brief  and  wretched 
existence  or  grow  to  maturity  only  to  succumb  to  insanity  or 
some  other  form  of  degeneracy. 

2.  Gonorrhea  is  a  disease  from  which  few  who  accept 
any  illicit  sexual  intercourse  escape.     It  is  often  spoken  of 
as  "no  worse  than  a  bad  cold,"  yet  it  is  stated  that  it  kills  one 
in  two  hundred  of  those  whom  it  attacks.     It  often  produces 
urethral  strictures  that  later  may  cause  loss  of  life.     It  per- 
sists in  the  deeper  parts  long  after  being  apparently  cured  and 
retains  the  power  to  communicate  itself  from  a  husband  to 
an  innocent  wife.    It  causes  also  the  so-called  one-child  steril- 
ity which  is  due  to  the  fact  that  during  the  process  of  child- 
bearing  it  finds  access  to  deeper  parts  and  prevents  subse- 
quent parenthood.     Physicians  give  statistical  evidence  that 
80  per  cent,  of  deaths  from  the  so-called  diseases  of  women 
and  about  90  per  cent,  of  all  the  work  done  by  specialists 
for  diseases  of  women  are  due  to  gonorrhea.     In  the  words 
of    Professor    Davenport : *      "Marriage    of    persons    with 
venereal  diseases  is  not  only  unfit ;  it  is  a  hideous  and  das- 

1  Davenport:     Eugenics,  p.  4., 


296  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

tardly  crime,"  and  its  frequency  would  justify  a  medical 
test  of  all  males  before  marriage,  innocent  as  well  as  guilty. 

The  venereal  diseases  and  alcoholism,  but  probably  the 
former  even  more  than  the  latter,  are  largely  responsible  for 
the  insanity  (of  which  it  has  been  estimated  that  there  are  a 
quarter  of  a  million  cases  in  the  United  States),  the  feeble- 
mindedness, and  various  other  forms  of  congenital,  as  well 
as  acquired,  abnormity.  Since  they  attack  the  germ  cells, 
from  which  all  organs  develop,  they  may  produce  a  variety 
of  different  forms  of  blight.  Dr.  Price  A.  Morrow,  quoted 
by  Professor  Irving  Fisher,  estimates  that  the  elimination  of 
venereal  diseases  would  probably  mean  the  elimination  of  at 
least  one-half  of  our  institutions  for  defectives.  If  this  esti- 
mate were  cut  down  one-half  it  would  still  be  appalling.  "In 
the  opinion  of  very  competent  judges,  social  diseases  consti- 
tute the  most  powerful  of  all  factors  in  the  degeneration  and 
depopulation  of  the  world."  They  merit  their  title  of  the 
"great  black  plague." 

It  is  hardly  necessary  to  add  that  the  venereal  diseases  are 
entirely  preventable  and  that  their  prevention  is  a  social  prob- 
lem. 

The  spread  of  venereal  disease  is  largely  due  to  prostitu- 
tion. Prostitution  is  a  business.1  It  is  as  old  as  history,  but 
the  former  notion  that  it  is  necessary  to  man  no  longer  has 
the  sanction  of  medical  science  and  is  an  insult  to  the  con- 
tJnent  portion  of  male  humanity.  As  in  other  business  the 
offer  of  a  supply  increases  demand,  and  the  demand  for  the 
service  of  prostitutes  is  promoted  by  various  suggestive  de- 
vices. At  the  same  time  the  recruiting  of  female  victims  is 
prosecuted  with  diabolical  ingenuity.  The  traffic  is  in  close 
alliance  with  numerous  saloons,  dance-halls,  immoral  shows 
and  real-estate  interests,  and  is  one  of  the  most  constant  cor- 
ruptors  of  the  honesty  and  fidelity  of  the  police. 

*C.  H.  Parkhurst:    Our  fight  with  Tammany.     Scribners,  1895. 
Chicago  Vice  Commission  Report,  1911. 

G.  J.  Kneeland :  Commercialized  Vice  in  New  York  City,  New 
York,  1913. 

Abraham  Flexner:    Prostitution  in  Europe.     Century  Co.,  1914. 


ACQUIRED  POPULATION-TRAITS  297 

The  medical  examination  and  licensing  of  prostitutes  as  a 
prevention  of  the  spread  of  venereal  disease  is  a  farce.  Suf- 
ficiently thorough  examination  is  scarcely  feasible,  and  even 
if  a  prostitute  is  actually  free  from  disease  at  the  time  of  her 
examination  she  is  likely  to  become  infected  within  a  few 
hours  afterward. 

Laws  directed  against  the  promoters  of  the  traffic,  the 
posting  of  the  owner's  name  in  every  place  regularly  used  for 
immoral  purposes,  and  a  special  body  of  police  under  the 
joint  supervision  of  the  city  government  and  of  an  unpaid 
commission  of  citizens  appointed  by  the  mayor  are  among 
the  remedial  measures  proposed. 

Second  Nature. — There  is  no  such  thing  as  an  acquired  in- 
stinct or  an  inborn  ( habit.  Yet  habit  when  once  acquired 
closely  resembles  instinct  in  being  organic. 

Habits  and  instincts  alike  are  definite  tendencies  to  action 
ingrained  in  the  organism.  The  plastic  motor  mechanism  by 
acting  acquires  the  tendency  to  repeat  similar  action;  such 
an  acquired  tendency  is  habit.  The  most  important  single 
fact  about  the  physiological  mechanism  of  man's  conscious 
life  is  that  it  is  highly  modifiable,  especially  during  a  long 
period  of  immaturity.  Even  the  instinctive  tendencies  in 
man  are  not  fixed  and  immutable,  but  heredity  leaves  them 
more  or  less  vague  and  half  established,  to  be  rendered  definite 
and  fixed  by  the  addition  of  habitual  elements,  or  to  be  modi- 
fied or  inhibited  by  postnatal  activity. 

Habit  is  most  often  thought  of  as  a  foe  that  binds  man 
with  cords  which  by  the  repetition  of  objectionable  actions 
during  thoughtless  youth  grow  thread  by  thread  to  unbreak- 
able cables  which  fetter  the  will.  Habit  is,  however,  still 
more  a  friend  that,  by  the  repetition  of  acts  dictated  by  neces- 
sity or  by  reason  or  by  the  experience  of  our  predecessors, 
builds  for  us  facile  tendencies  and  ready  powers  to  do  that 
which  life  requires  of  us.  The  relation  of  instinct  and  heredi- 
tary talent  to  habit  is  illustrated  by  manual  dexterity.  We 
may  inherit  an  "instinct  of  workmanship,"  the  delight  in  see- 
ing something  grow  under  our  hands,  but  we  must  acquire 
as  habits  the  skill  of  the  craftsman  or  the  flying  fingers  of 


298  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

the  piece-worker.  We  may  inherit  musical  talent,  but  we 
must  acquire  as  habits  by  the  laborious  practice  of  exercises 
the  technique  to  perform  a  concerto. 

The  word  habit  is  usually  restricted  to  neuromuscular  co- 
ordinations, predisposing  to  particular  overt  activities.  It  is 
not,  however,  overt  activities  alone  which  are  subject  to  the 
law  that  action  prepares  for  similar  action,  but  thoughts  and 
sentiments  as  well.  The  impressions  made  by  the  external 
world  upon  the  mind  are  like  the  spray  from  a  hose  which, 
falling  on  a  bare,  grassless  yard,  cuts  tiny  water  courses  here 
and  there.  Inborn  traits  are  like  the  irregularities  of  sur- 
face, pebbles  and  lumps  of  earth  that  predetermine  in  part 
what  the  courses  of  the  tiny  rills  shall  be;  environmental  in- 
fluence is  like  the  water  falling  from  the  moving  nozzle  of 
the  hose,  now  here,  now  there.  Those  tendencies  of  thought 
and  sentiment  which  together  with  habits  we  include  under 
the  designation,  second  nature,  are  like  the  courses  worn  by 
the  water  after  an  hour  of  sprinkling  which  give  to  the  tiny 
rills  a  definite  pattern,  not  so  fixed  as  to  be  beyond  modifica- 
tion, yet  within  certain  limits  fixed.  So  every  thought  and 
emotion  opens  for  itself  a  runway  in  the  brain  or  deepens  a 
preexisting  channel,  and  besides  our  more  or  less  vague  and 
half-formed  inborn  tendencies  we  have  our  developed  tastes, 
propensities,  esthetic  likes  and  dislikes  and,  if  well  reared,  our 
moral  enthusiasms  and  detestations,  our  opinions  fortified  by 
corroborations  readily  brought  to  mind,  as  well  as  ranges  of 
thought  where  the  mind,  if  it  entered  at  all,  would  have  to 
push'  its  way  along  an  unbroken  path.  The  character  of  a 
mature  man,  regarded  as  a  bundle  of  traits  ingrained  in  his 
physical  organism,  is  only  partly  nature,  it  is  also  largely 
"second  nature." 

Thus  it  is  that  education  and  rearing  as  well  as  hygiene 
modify  the  physiological  quality  of  a  population. 

Subconscious  Set. — By  the  "set  of  the  organism"  I  refer 
to  the  fact  that  the  organic  tendencies  of  a  person  do  not 
seem  to  be  the  same  at  all  times,  but  one  may  be  one  man  on 
one  day  and  quite  a  different  man  on  another  day.  To-day 
one  set  of  tendencies  is  active  and  another  dormant ;  later  this 


ACQUIRED  POPULATION-TRAITS  299 

adjustment  is  reversed.  On  one  day  a  man  is  courageous  and 
hopeful  and  the  struggle  for  his  ideals  seems  eminently  worth 
while;  on  another  day  he  may  be  discouraged  and  misan- 
thropic. The  differences  between  black  and  white  may  be  no 
longer  vivid  to  him,  and  he  may  be  either  negative  and  in- 
different, or  propelled  by  quite  another  set  of  reactions.  By 
moving  a  lever  the  tune  played  by  a  hand-organ  is  changed 
from  "Molly  Darling"  to  "Johnny  Comes  Marching  Home" 
or  "Where  Is  My  Wandering  Boy?"  Man  is  an  organism, 
vastly  more  complex,  and  with  a  wider  range  of  possibilities 
than  the  hand-organ,  and  may  be  set  to  play  anything  from 
"The  Messiah"  to  "The  Devil's  Hornpipe."  To  change  the 
figure,  there  are  as  many  stories  to  his  nature  as  to  a  sky- 
scraper. He  may  sink  to  the  subbasement  without  effort, 
but  he  requires  an  elevator  if  he  wishes  to  live  on  the  higher 
levels.  That  is  to  say,  the  tendencies  that  he  shares  with 
his  prehistoric  ancestors  are  sure  to  assert  themselves,  while 
upon  the  higher  and  later  achievements  of  civilization  he  has 
at  first  a  more  precarious  hold. 

By  speaking  of  the  "subconscious"  set  I  mean  that  the 
organic  adjustment  often  persists  after  the  experience  that 
caused  it  has  passed  from  conscious  memory.  A  youth  setting 
out  for  the  city  in  the  morning  has  a  few  moments'  conversa- 
tion on  the  station  platform  with  the  leading  citizen  of  his 
suburb,  and  all  day  while  busy  with  his  occupations  he  is  a 
different  person  because  of  that  interview,  with  added  self- 
respect  and  a  new  bent  to  his  attention  and  impulses.  On 
another  day  he  may  have  ridden  on  the  train  with  a  cynic 
and  a  rake,  listening  to  talk  that  gave  him  for  the  day  a  widely 
different  bent.  Or  on  the  evening  before  he  may  have  read 
a  noble  book,  or  in  the  morning  he  may  have  given  a  few 
moments  to  the  thoughts  that  he  could  share  with  his  Maker. 
And  in  either  case  for  a  time  after  the  experience  that  deter- 
mined the  set  of  his  being  has  retired  below  the  threshold  of 
conscious  memory  the  effect  persists,  although  conscious  atten- 
tion is  wholly  occupied  with  the  succession  of  affairs.  It  per- 
sists for  a  time,  but  it  is  by  no  means  permanent.  It  must  be 
frequently  renewed.  To  keep  men  adjusted  to  life  on  a  truly 


300  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

human  level  is  an  essential  ministration  of  association  with 
developed  personalities,  or  with  the  nobler  expressions  of 
human  life  in  tradition,  literature,  art,  and  religion.  The 
subject  is  here  referred  to  because  the  fact  noted  is  a  psycho- 
physical  adjustment. 


IV.    SOCIAL  CAUSES  WHICH  AFFECT  THE  LIFE  OF 
•       SOCIETY 


CHAPTER   XVII 
THE  DETERMINATION  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  SOCIETY  FROM 

WITHIN 

We  Pass  to  the  Inner  Essence  of  Society. — We  have  now 
discussed  three  of  the  four  sets  of  conditions  that  determine 
what  the  life  of  a  society  shall  be.  They  were:  (i)  the  geo- 
graphic, or  natural  physical  environment;  (2)  the  technic  or 
artificial  physical  environment;  (3)  the  psychophysical  traits 
of  the  people  themselves,  hereditary  or  acquired,  their  tem- 
peraments and  habits,  the  capacities  and  tendencies  ingrained 
in  the  biological  organism,  that  are  the  bearers  of  the  social 
life;  and  now  we  have  come  to  the  fourth.  The  geographic 
conditions  are  altogether  external  to  the  social  life  as  soil 
and  sunshine  are  external  to  the  life  of  plants.  The  technic 
conditions,  though  produced  by  social  life,  are  still  external 
to  it  as  trellises,  fertilizers,  and  plowed  fields  are  external  to 
the  plants  which  the  farmer  raises.  The  psychophysical  con- 
ditions are  not  external  to  man  as  an  animal  organism,  but 
they  are  external  to  the  conscious  life  of  man.  Indeed  the 
arm  is  as  external  to  the  conscious  act  of  driving  a  nail  as  is 
the  hammer;  and  we  never  become  conscious  of  the  neural 
processes  by  which  we  think.  When  we  write  a  man's  biog1- 
raphy  we  do  not  describe  the  processes  of  his  digestion,  and 
respiration ;  peristalsis  and  osmosis  and  neural  katabolism  are 
not  mentioned.  And  when  I  say  "my  life,"  I  am  oblivious 
to  all  these  and  mean  instead  a  stream  of  conscious  activities 
and  experiences — activities  which  are  experiences  and  ex- 
periences which  are  activities.  But  these  experience-activi- 
ties of  mine  are  not  only  my  life,  but  also  a  part  of  the 

301 


302  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

life  of  society.  They  are  in  part  caused  by  the  activities  of 
many  associates  and  in  turn  they  affect  the  activities  of  those 
who  are  about  me.  Thus  my  experience-activities  are  knit 
together  with  those  of  other  members  of  the  society  to  which 
I  belong  to  form  one  web.  When  we  study  the  way  in  which 
the  conscious  activities  of  associates  condition  each  other 
we  are  not  studying  the  effect  upon  society  of  conditions  ex- 
ternal to  it  as  soil,  climate,  and  agriculture  are  external  *o 
plants,  but  we  are  studying  the  life  of  society  itself,  the  inter- 
relation of  its  parts,  as  the  student  of  plant  physiology  studies 
the  interrelation  of  chemical  and  physical  processes  that  make 
up  the  life  of  the  plant.1 

Association — the  Inclusive  Social  Relation. — Rqason  is 
sometimes  defined  as  the  power  to  discern  relationships.  Ex- 
planation may  be  said  to  consist  in  showing  how  facts  are 
related;  and  to  show  how  the  life  of  society  is  determined 
from  within  we  must  show  how  the  activities  that  play  a  part 
in  society  are  related  to  each  other.  Association  has  usually 
been  spoken  of  by  sociologists  as  a  kind  of  activity,  but  this  is 
an  error.  Association  is  not  a  kind  of  activity;  but  all  the 
kinds  of  our  activity  may  go  on  in  the  relation  which  is  asso- 
ciation. Still  there  cannot  be  association  without  activity  for 
association  is  a  relation  between  activities.  All  of  the  causally 
significant  relations  between  the  activities  of  associates  are 
forms  of  association,  so  that  association  is  the  all-inclusive 
social  relationship.  Notice  that  we  do  not  say  relations  be- 
tween associates,  but  between .  the  activities  of  associates ; 
not  I  am  a  condition  of  you  and  you  are  a  condition  of  me, 
but  my  activity  is  a  condition  of  your  activity  and  your  activity 
is  a  condition  of  my  activity,  is  the  accurate  description  of  the 
fact  of  association. 

The  tide  of  interrelated  activities  which  we  have  called 
"the  life  of  society"  is  made  up  of  the  lives  of  individuals 
somewhat  as  rills  make  rivers,  only  these  rills  are  not  lost 
in  this  river,  but  keep  their  identity  as  they  flow  on  within 
the  larger  whole.  The  psychologist  calls  the  life  of  an  in- 
dividual "a  stream  of  consciousness,"  and  it  is  made  up  of 

1Let  no  one  attempt  to  carry  out  this  figure  in  detail. 


SOCIETY  FROM  WITHIN  303 

the  interrelated  ideas,  sentiments  and  practices  that  constitute 
the  continuous  system  of  the  individual's  experience.  The 
sociologist  calls  the  life  of  society  "the  social  process."  The 
social  process  is  composed  of  all  the  activities  that  go  on  in 
association.  It  is  a  process  in  two  senses:  first,  because  it 
is  alive,  it  is  composed  of  activities — causally  interwoven  activ- 
ities ;  second,  it  is  always  becoming  something  more  and  other 
than  it  was,  always  evolving,  as  a  result  of  the  causal  inter- 
relation of  its  parts.  It  includes  ideas,  sentiments,  and  prac- 
tices which  are  not  peculiar  to  any  one  individual  but  preva- 
lent among  many.  Individual  streams  of  consciousness  flow 
on  side  by  side  within  the  social  process,  and  between  these 
individual  streams  of  consciousness  there  is  a  continual  os- 
mosis. Indeed  the  content  of  the  stream  of  consciousness  of 
any  one  of  us  has  been  mainly  derived  from  the  infiltration 
of  ideas  and  sentiments  from  the  society  in  which,  from  our 
empty  infancy,  we  have  been  continually  immersed.  But  as 
in  osmosis  there  is  passage  in  both  directions  through  the 
separating  membrane,  so  in,  association,  as  soon  as  we  acquire 
a  definite  individuality  and  content  for  our  own  stream  of 
consciousness,  we  give  out  as  well  as  receive. 

Whenever  two  human  beings  come  into  communication 
this  osmosis  of  ideas  and  sentiments  is  set  up.  By  it  one  asso- 
ciate derives '  sonietKlrig  of  conscious^experience  and  activity 
from  the  other.  Tarde  caiis  it  imitation,  thereby  giving  to 
that  word  a  scientific  technical  meaning,  broader  and  deeper 
than  it  has  in  common  speech.  And  he  says  that  imitation 
is  the  universal  and  essential  social  fact,  that  wherever  there 
is  society  there  is  imitation  and  wherever  there  is  imitation 
there  is  society.  There  seems  to  be  good  reason  for  declin- 
ing to  adopt  Tarde's  name  for  the  universal  social  relation 
in  that  we  need  the  word  imitation  to  carry  a  more  restricted 
meaning,  and  it  does  not  naturally  convey  this  wider  signifi- 
cation. 

As  in  physical  osmosis  there  is  passage  of  a  liquid  or  gas 
in  each  direction  through  the  separating  membrane  but  usually 
with  a  more  rapid  passage  of  one  substance  in  one  direction 
than  of  the  other  substance  in  the  other  direction,  so  also 


304  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

in  association,  while  each  associate  is  usually  to  some  degree 
both  a  contributor  and  a  recipient,  yet  in  any  given  social 
contact  one  is  the  chief  giver  and  the  other  the  chief  re- 
cipient. This  latter  fact  leads  Simmel  to  call  association 
"Ueber  und  unterordnung,"  or  superiority  and  subordination. 
He  says  whenever  two  men  walk  down  the  street  together  or 
sit  together  at  the  club  or  wherever  two  human  beings  are  in 
communication,  the  one>  is  dispenser  and  the  other  recipient 
of  ideas  and  influences.  The  superiority  may  alternate  from 
one  to  the  other,  as  the  communication  changes  from  a  sub- 
ject in  which  one  associate  reveals  in  his  speech  or  conduct 
the  greater  clearness  of  ideas  or  positiveness  of  intention  or 
depth  of  feeling  to  a  subject  in  respect  to  which  the  other 
associate  has  the  preeminence.  For  these  reasons  Simmel 
says  that  the  universal  social  fact  is  superiority  and  subordi- 
nation, that  wherever  there  is  society  such  "superiority  and 
subordination"  exist.  Though  there  is  truth  in  this,  it  is 
far  from  being  the  whole  truth  and  probably  Simmel  would 
not  have  selected  this  designation  for  the  inclusive  social  re- 
lation if  he  had  lived  in  a  more  democratic  country  where 
superiority  and  subordination  is  a  less  conspicuous  reality  than 
it  is  in  Germany.  There  it  seems  to  be  more  or  less  vividly 
present  to  consciousness  in  nearly  all  social  contacts,  while 
here  it  seems  to  be  practically  absent  from  consciousness  in 
much  if  not  in  most  social  intercourse,  and  an  interesting 
phase  or  incident  of  social  relation  rather  than  the  essence  of 
it.  Accordingly  we  adopt  the  name  association  as  the  desig- 
nation for  the  universal  social  relation,  the  relation  of  which 
we  can  say  that  it  is  always  present  wherever  there  is  society ; 
or  we  may  describe  that  relation  figuratively  by  the  phrase 
social  osmosis. 

Association  Depends  on  Communication  and  Is  Always  a 
Causal  Relation. — Association  or  social  osmosis  exists  only 
when  one  is  aware  of  the  activity  of  his  associate;  therefore 
if  not  absolutely  identical  with  communication  association  at 
least  implies  communication,  not  necessarily,  however,  inten- 
tional or  even  conscious  communication,  but  only  the  fact  that 
knowledge  of  another's  activity  is  received,  as  it  may  be  re- 


SOCIETY  FROM  WITHIN  305 

ceived  by  an  eavesdropper,  or  by  an  observer  using  a  spy- 
glass. Two  men  who  are  aware  of  each  other's  activities  are 
in  communication  and  association  whether  they  are  convers- 
ing or  sawing  wood.  Whether  there  be  any  intention  to 
communicate  or  not,  the  fact  that  the  activities  of  associates 
are  known  to  each  other  establishes  the  relation  of  associa- 
tion. The  clearest  difference  between  the  common  use  of  the 
words  "association"  and  "communication"  is  that  we  prefer 
to  use  the  word  "communication"  when  an  associate  inten- 
tionally imparts  a  knowledge  of  his  activities  to  another,  usu- 
ally by  speaking  or  writing,  but  we  use  the  word  "association" 
with  complete  indifference  to  whether  the  relation  is  inten- 
tional or  not.  Yet  even  the  word  "communicate"  we  do  not 
always  confine  to  intentional  communication ;  for  example,  we 
say  that  a  crowd  owes  its  peculiar  character  largely  to  the 
readiness  with  which  its  members  communicate  their  emotions, 
though  they  may  have  no  intention  so  to  communicate.  Two 
deaf  and  dumb  men  sawing  wood  together  are  in  communica- 
tion, and  likely  to  work  far  more  happily  and  efficiently  than 
if  alone.  Not  only  will  their  communication  satisfy  the  in- 
stinct of  sociability,  they  will  get  suggestions  from  each  other, 
will  encourage  and  stimulate  each  other,  or  depress  each  other, 
will  desire  to  command  each  other's  respect  as  sawyers,  and 
are  likely  to  engage  in  half  or  wholly  conscious  emulation. 
Either  of  the  two  words  "association"  and  "communication" 
implies  the  probability  of  mutuality  or  reciprocity  in  the  re- 
lation. Possibly  the  word  "association"  carries  that  sugges- 
tion more  distinctly  and  somewhat  more  suggests  the  fact  of 
far-reaching  consequences. 

Everyone  who  gives  a  place  in  his  attention  to  the  activity 
of  another  is  practically  sure  to  be  in  some  way  influenced 
by  that  fact.  The  highest  is  affected  by  the  humblest  and  the 
wisest  by  the  stupidest,  if  it  be  only  to  despise  his  humble 
colleague  and  to  exalt  his  own  pride,  to  avoid  resemblances 
and  to  exaggerate  the  differences  between  the  two.  This 
tendency  of  human  beings  to  be  influenced  by  each  other  is  a 
universal,  social  fact;  it  is  for  sociology  what  affinity  is  to 
chemistry.  Like  gravity,  it  can  be  resisted  and  the  effects  of 


306  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

one  social  influence  may  be  offset  by  another  external  tug  or 
internal  propulsion,  but  it  is  always  there,  one  of  the  moments 
entering  into  the  resultant. 

Social  Suggestion. — This  universal  social  relation  which  we 
have  termed  association,  or  social  osmosis,  appears  in  various 
forms,  which  may  be  distinguished  according  to  the  nature  of 
the  particular  activities  that  issue  from  the  causal  contact. 
The  elements  that  enter  into  the  life  of  society  and  of  the  in- 
dividuals who  compose  society  are  of  three  kinds,  namely, 
ideas,  sentiments,  and  overt  practices;  therefore,  the  causal 
relationships  that  exist  between  the  activities  of  associates 
may  be  of  at  least  three  main  sorts:  (i)  those  relations  in 
which  the  idea  of  one  associate  becomes  known  to  another, 
which  we  call  social  suggestion;  (2)  that  in  which  the  sen- 
timent of  one  associate  is  felt  by  another,  which  we  shall  call 
sympathetic  radiation;  and  (3)  that  in  which  the  overt  prac- 
tice of  one  associate  is  practiced  by  another,  which  we  shall 
call  imitation. 

When  B  has  an  idea  because  A  first  had  it  the  causal  rela- 
tion between  the  conditioning  activity  and  the  resultant  activity 
we  call  suggestion.1 

It  is  not  at  all  necessary  that  A  should  tell  B  his  idea.  In- 
stead B  may  infer  it  from  the  practices  of  A.  Thus  the  ap- 
prentice gets  his  idea  of  trade  processes  mainly  by  watching 
the  skilled  workman.  Thus  children  learn  the  ideas  of  their 
parents  and  youths  learn  the  ideas  of  business  men  and  poli- 
ticians. Sometimes  we  say  we  "wonder  what  he  means,"  re- 
ferring not  to  his  words  but  to  his  conduct ;  and  in  general  we 
infer  the  ideas  of  our  associates  from  their  overt  practices, 
as  well  as  receive  them  directly  in  what  they  say.  Whether 
the  idea  of  A  is  told  to  B,  or  is  inferred  by  B,  it  is  a  case 
of  suggestion. 

Two  important  statements  may  be  added  about  suggestion. 
First:  there  is  nothing  logical  about  suggestion;  that  is  to 
say,  we  get  the  ideas  that  our  associates  have,  or  seem  to  have, 
without  regard  to  whether  they  are  true  ideas  or  false  ones. 

1  We  do  not  need  to  discuss  the  psychology  of  suggestion,  but  only 
to  observe  the  causal  relationship  between  ideas  of  associates. 


SOCIETY  FROM  WITHIN  307 

We  are  not  using  the  word  "suggestion,"  as  some  writers  do 
to  mean  adoption  of  an  idea,  so  that  it  is  believed  and  acted 
on,  in  the  absence  of  logical  grounds,  but  "suggestion"  as  we 
use  the  term  has  nothing  to  do  with  the  presence  or  absence 
of  logical  grounds  for  the  adoption  of  the  idea.  After  we 
get  ideas  from  our  associates  we  may  test  them,  but  we  get 
them,  false  and  true  alike.  The  relation  between  the  ideas 
of  our  associates  and  the  ideas  that  we  get  from  them  is  a 
purely  casual  one  up  to  that  point.  This  has  vast  consequences 
in  the  building  up  and  perpetuation  of  systems  of  social  be- 
lief, firmly  held,  but  often  superstitious  and  every  way  erro- 
neous. We  cannot  test  suggested  ideas  unless  we  have  some 
data  by  which  to  test  them.  A  child  who  grows  up  among 
associates  whose  religious  and  political  and  moral  ideas  are 
superstitious  and  distorted  gets  those  false  ideas.  Later  he 
may  test  many  of  them  and  replace  some  of  them  with-  better 
ones,  but  unless  better  ones  come  from  some  other  social 
source  there  is  but  little  chance  of  his  doing  so. 

Doubt  and  Thought. — This  section  is  inserted  as  a  paren- 
thesis, and  as  a  comment  upon  the  statement  just  made  that 
there  is  nothing  logical  about  suggestion. 

I  invite  you  to  doubt  everything  that  you  read  in  this 
book.  Doubt  is  the  thought  you  give  to  an  idea  before  you 
accept  it  as  true,  or  reject  it  as  false.  Doubting  is  thinking 
about  an  idea  without  either  affirming  or  denying  the  idea. 
When  one  says,  "I  believe  that,"  then  he  has  ceased  to  doubt ; 
and  when  he  says,  "I  do  not  believe  that,"  then  also  he  has 
ceased  to  doubt,  or  more  probably  he  has  never  doubted  in 
either  case.  Many  ideas  are  so  clear  and  simple  that  as  soon 
as  stated  they  must  be  believed.  Two  and  two  are  four — 
one  cannot  doubt  about  that.  Of  other  ideas  one  can  be  sure 
just  as  easily  and  promptly  that  they  are  false.  Two  and  two 
are  five — one  cannot  doubt  about  that ;  you  know  at  once  that 
it  is  not  so.  The  more  intellectual  power  and  experience  in 
thinking  or  doubting  one  has  had,  the  larger  the  number  of 
ideas  about  which  he  can  decide  at  once  that  they  are  either 
true  or  false.  And  it  is  equally  true  that  the  greater  one's  in- 
tellectual power  and  experience  in  thinking,  the  larger  the 


308  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

number  of  questions  he  can  comprehend  as  problems  but  can- 
not answer ;  the  higher  one  climbs  the  wider  the  dim  horizon 
of  uncertainty.  And  the  greater  one's  intellectual  develop- 
ment, the  more  he  will  be  able,  whenever  the  question  is  too 
complex  or  deep  to  be  answered  offhand,  to  suspend  judg- 
ment and  continue  thinking  until  he  has  a  rational  belief.  If 
you  find  that  you  cajinot  solve  a  problem  do  not  be  distressed 
about  it,  but  put  it  aside  and  let  it  lie  upon  the  shelf.  Go 
back  to  it  later,  after  you  have  learned  and  grown  more,  and 
try  your  strength  upon  it.  Sometimes  you  may  find  that  a 
problem  that  once  baffled  you  yields  readily  to  solution ;  other 
problems  will  forever  transcend  our  powers.  The  person 
with  little  power  of  thought  and  experience  in  thinking  an- 
swers deep  questions  with  mere  snap  judgments:  "Oh,  I  do 
not  believe  that,"  or,  "Yes,  I  believe  that."  He  condemns 
the  book  that  was  not  written  from  his  own  point  of  view 
and  shuts  himself  up  in  his  own  limitations. 

Most  of  what  people  believe,  they  believe  just  because  the 
notion  has  been  presented  to  them  when  they  were  not  old 
enough  or  not  instructed  enough  or  not  thoughtful  enough  to 
see  any  reason  for  doubting  it.  So  we  take  on  the  ideas  that 
are  current  in  our  family  and  neighborhood  without  ever  hav- 
ing doubted  them  and  acquire  a  stock  of  beliefs  that  have 
stuck  to  us  as  burrs  stick  to  clothing  in  an  autumn  walk 
through  the  fields.  They  are  really  no  part  of  us.  And  most 
of  what  people  disbelieve  they  disbelieve  without  ever  having 
doubted  it.  They  simply  rejected  it.  When  an  idea  is  pre- 
sented, even  to  the  mind  of  an  older  and  more  instructed 
person,  it  may  be  eagerly  welcomed  or  instantly  refused  with- 
out one  doubt.  It  may  be  welcomed  because  it  harmonizes 
with  the  cherished  beliefs  which  we  have  already  adopted ;  or 
because  it  is  creditable  to  ourselves  or  our  friends  or  our 
party  of  whom  we  are  glad  to  think  well ;  or  because  it  excuses 
us  from  doing  disagreeable  things ;  or  because  if  true  it  is  a 
reason  for  doing  what  we  like  to  do,  or  because  it  is  an  idea 
that  we  like  to  have  prevail  because  of  its  effect  on  the  con- 
duct of  others.  Or  it  may  be  rejected  because  it  disagrees  with 
the  cherished  beliefs  which  we  have  already  adopted ;  or 


SOCIETY  FROM  WITHIN  309 

because  it  is  not  creditable  to  ourselves  or  our  family  or  our 
party  of  whom  we  are  unwilling  to  think  ill;  or  because  if 
true  it  summons  us  to  do  that  which  is  disagreeable  or  for- 
bids us  to  do  that  which  is  agreeable;  or  because  we  fear  its 
effect  on  the  conduct  of  others.  Most  of  the  ideas  and  be- 
liefs upon  debatable  questions  which  furnish  the  minds  of 
'men  are  held  for  such  causes  as  these,  having  been  first  adopted 
during  childhood  and  youth.  And  after  being  once  adopted, 
arguments  for  retaining  these  beliefs  can  be  seen  and  appre- 
ciated far  more  easily  than  arguments  for  changing  them. 

Thus  it  is  that  many  people  have  eyes  for  facts  and  consid- 
erations that  are  favorable  to  their  own  sect  or  party,  but 
none  for  those  favorable  to  opposing  sects  or  parties.  One 
element  in  the  "point  of  view"  which  at  the  outset  was  said 
to  be  essential  to  the  study  of  sociology  was  riddance,  so  far 
as  this  is  possible,  from  sectarian,  partisan,  sectional,  racial, 
and  every  other  bias.  The  first  thing  to  do,  and  the  hardest,  if 
we  wish  to  see  the  world  as  it  is,  is  to  get  rid  of  our  colored 
spectacles  and  be  just  as  ready  to  see  truth  that  calls  in  ques- 
tion our  established  beliefs  and  prejudices  and  is  out  of  har- 
mony with  our  personal  and  party  interests  as  we  are  to  see 
truth  that  reenforces  our  cherished  beliefs,  established  preju- 
dices, and  favored  interests — -to  be  impartial  and  disinterested 
judges  of  truth.  This  is  "the  supreme  intellectual  virtu<e." 
It  is  intellectual  honesty  and  far  harder  than  the  honesty  that 
will  not  lie  to  another.  It  is  a  virtue  but  rarely  attained  in  its 
completeness  and  that  is  largely  why  progress  is  so  slow.  I  do 
not  say  that  this  emancipation  of  mind  must  be  possessed  in 
order  to  be  a  tolerably  good  person;  there  are  many  good 
people  who  do  not  possess  it.  In  fact  the  mass  of  those  who 
preserve  the  established  order  may  get  along  so  well  without 
it  that  Walter  Bagehot  has  been  able  to  write  a  famous  passage 
on  "The  Virtues  of  Stupidity."  * 

But  society  must  have  progress  as  well  as  order.  And  for 
the  sake  of  progress  the  leaders  of  the  people  must  have  not 
only  intellectual  brightness,  but  also  intellectual  honesty  and 

1  "Letters  on  the  French  Coup  d'fitat,"  quoted  by  Carver  in  So- 
ciology and  Social  Progress,  p.  501. 


310  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

openmindedness.  This  is  a  virtue  that  must  be  striven  for  by 
those  who  hope  to  contribute  to  the  world's  progress  toward 
knowledge  and  light  and  so  to  fullness  of  life. 

A  new  view  that  takes  away  the  system  of  cherished  be- 
liefs upon  which  we  had  built  our  life  does  us  a  great  hurt  in 
order  that  it  may  do  us  a  great  good.  It  takes  away  the 
foundation  of  sand  in  order  that  we  may  build  upon  the  rock.' 
Many  cannot  face  the  possibility  of  such  an  overturn.  It 
often  takes  sublime  courage  to  want  to  know  the  truth  even 
when  the  truth  is  unwelcome  and  to  follow  the  truth  even  when 
it  requires  us  to  abandon  cherished  prejudices  and  courses  of 
action.1 

Moreover,  it  is  hard  work  to  readjust  our  habits  of 
thought.  It  is  immeasurably  easier,  having  become  the  adherent 
of  a  given  party  or  creed,  to  remain  so,  than  to  become  a  part 
of  the  movement  of  progress  toward  the  unity  of  truth  that 
lies  deeper  than  all  partisanship.  Perhaps  it  is  only  the  in- 
tellectual leaders  who  are  called  to  do  this  arduous  work.  If 
so,  these  leaders  deserve  the  sympathy  and  appreciation  of 
those  who  take  the  easier  course  and  join  the  intellectually 
inert  mass. 

The  mass  hates  to  be  disturbed  in  its  comfortable  consist- 
ency by  views  inconsistent  with  its  adopted  opinions,  and  so 
stones  the  prophets  from  age  to  age.  But  in  a  republic  it 
would  seem  desirable  that  the  mass  should  be  less  inert,  less 
manacled  by  prejudice,  less  unable  to  appreciate  its  leaders,  the 
free-minded,  until  after  they  are  stoned  or  crucified,  or  after 
more  modern  manners,  sneered  out  of  attention,  or  even 
ignored,  until  the  reasonableness  of  their  reasons  compels  slow 
and  reluctant  assent  after  costly  and  often  calamitous  delay. 

Do  not  be  afraid  to  doubt  if  you  aspire  to  participate  in 
intellectual  progress;  that  is,  to  think  without  affirming  or 
denying,  not  thrown  into  a  panic  by  uncertainty.  Cease  to 
affirm  that  which  you  have  shouted  loudest  and  ask:  "Why 
am  I  shouting  so?  Is  this  true  after  all,  or  do  I  believe  it 

1  See  Froude :  Biography  of  Thos.  Carlyle,  i,  81  seq.,  or  the 
avowedly  autobiographical  passage  in  "Sartor  Resartus"  on  "The 
Everlasting  No,"  p.  156  seq. 


SOCIETY  FROM  WITHIN  311 

just  because  it  has  clung  to  me  like  a  burr,  or  because  others 
do,  or  because  I  like  to  believe  it?" 

On  the  other  hand,  there  is  no  virtue  in  uncertainty  when 
conclusions  can  be  reached.  Moreover,  there  are  a  few  things 
concerning  which  there  is  no  necessity  nor  pretext  for  uncer- 
tainty, but  which  lie  open  to  perception.  Especially  no  normal 
mind  can  doubt  the  difference  between  black  and  white;  we 
cannot  doubt  that  there  is  such  a  thing  as  suffering,  heartache, 
blight  and  ruin ;  nor  can  we  doubt  that  there  are  such  things 
as  gladness  and  peace,  happy  homes,  love,  health  of  body, 
mind,  and  heart,  the  joy  and  worth  of  life's  possibilities  ful- 
filled. As  long  as  we  do  not  become  so  blinded  that  we  cannot 
see  the  difference  between  black  and  white  we  shall  not  be- 
come inactive,  but  even  in  our  periods  of  greatest  uncertainty 
we.  shall  have  light  enough  to  walk  and  work  by,  and  in  our 
hours  of  clearer  vision  enough  to  summon  us  to  an  enthusiasm 
of  devotion. 

Social  Suggestion  Determines  Conduct  and  the  Desire  for 
Conduct  Determines  Invention. — The  second  statement  to  be 
made  about  social  suggestion  is  that  it  determines  conduct. 
The  social  suggestion  which  provides  society  with  prevalent 
ideas  thereby  controls  the  conduct  and  practices  of  society. 

The  human  organism  is  a  mechanism  adapted  to  function 
under  the  stimulation  of  ideas.  That  is  the  key  to  the  life 
history  of  man  and  society,  in  so  far  as  that  mystery  can  be 
unlocked  with  any  one  key.  Let  someone  put  his  head  in  at 
the  door  of  a  crowded  theater  and  say  that  the  building  is  on 
fire,  and  if  he  is  believed  the  whole  audience  is  lifted  and 
put  in  motion.  Drop  an  idea  in  the  slot  and  the  wheels  of 
human  activity  revolve.  And  it  makes  no  difference  whether 
the  building  really  is  on  fire  or  the  alarm  is  uttered  by  a  mad- 
man ;  provided  he  is  believed  the  audience  is  equally  moved 
until  undeceived.  Man  is  as  readily  moved  by  a  false  idea  as 
by  a  true  one,  provided  only  the  idea  is  accepted.  Since  ideas 
directly  determine  conduct  it  follows  that  suggestion,  by 
supplying  a  body  of  current  ideas,  controls  socially  prevalent 
conduct. 

And  this  leads  into  a  third  statement  not  about  suggestion, 


312  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

but  about  invention,  and  it  is  one  of  the  most  profoundly 
important  principles  of  sociological  explanation:  Since  ideas 
determine  conduct,  the  need  of  conduct  prompts  the  invention 
of  ideas  that  will  evoke  the  conduct -that  is  wanted.  Man  can- 
not carry  his  conduct  beyond  the  original  responses  of  instinct 
except  by  getting  ideas  that  will  move  and  guide  action.  A 
primitive  mother  has  a  sick  child.  She  yearns  to  do  some- 
thing about  it,  and  so  she  thinks  of  things  that  she  might  do. 
She  cannot  know  but  that  any  idea  of  action  that  occurs  to 
her  may  be  the  right  one.  She  tries  it  and  has  at  least  the 
comfort  of  doing  something  to  meet  the  emergency.  Or  she 
asks  a  "wise  man"  to  do  something.  A  practice  once  started 
easily  acquires  an  established  authority  as  the  way  to  meet 
the  situation.  Thus  all  peoples  build  up  whole  systems  of 
practice  to  meet  life's  emergencies ;  to  cure  the  sick,  to  make  it 
rain,  to  cause  the  corn  to  grow,  to  make  deer  show  themselves, 
to  settle  quarrels,  to  pacify  the  unseen  powers.  The  necessity 
that  is  the  mother  of  invention  is  necessity  of  ideas,  and  inven- 
tion is  invention  of  ideas.  Invention  is  guided  by  knowledge 
provided  there  is  pertinent  knowledge,  but  it  is  by  no  means 
limited  by  the  extent  of  knowledge.  In  some  respects,  the 
less  knowledge  the  freer  is  invention.  Thus  to  make  corn 
grow  and  to  lure  deer  and  to  serve  a  hundred  other  ends 
activities  are  prosecuted  partly  under  the  guidance  of  knowl- 
edge and  partly  under  the  guidance  of  other  ideas  that  come 
in  answer  to  the  need  of  guidance.  In  some  realms  of  action 
knowledge  is  far  more  readily  accumulated  than  in  others  and 
in  the  latter,  speculation  continues  to  furnish  man  with  the 
ideas  by  which  he  is  guided.  It  is  thus  that  the  desire  for 
conduct  creates  the  need  and  desire  for  ideas,  so  that  people 
invent  and  disseminate  those  ideas  which  evoke  the  sort  of 
conduct  which  is  wanted.  Current  beliefs  have  been  the  prod- 
ucts not  of  unbiased  logical  probability  but  also,  and  in  many 
instances  far  more,  they  have  been  the  products  of  practical 
need.  Man  must  have  ideas  or  he  cannot  get  in  motion. 
When  he  does  not  know  the  true  ideas  he  will  guess  and  act 
on  his  guesses,  until  they  are  displaced;  for  ideas  he  must 
have.  During  the  long  eras  while  the  world  waited  for  the 


SOCIETY  FROM  WITHIN  313 

slow-grown  fruits  of  science,  men  have  supplied  themselves 
with  ideas  born  of  their  own  speculation.  Being  practically 
free  because  of  their  ignorance  to  choose  the  ideas  they  pre- 
ferred, they  have  chosen  the  ideas  that  stimulated  them  as 
they  liked  to  be  stimulated,  or  more  often  their  leaders  have 
taught  the  ideas  that  would  stimulate  the  masses  as  the  leaders 
desired  to  have  the  masses  stimulated.  Thus  we  have  had  no 
lack  of  ideas  even  where  knowledge  is  least,  of  political  and 
religious  and  ethical  ideas,  adapted  to  control  the  conduct  of 
men.  And  both  leaders  and  led  have  said  and  thought  that 
ideas  that  worked  well  were  vouched  for  by  the  fact  that  they 
met  human  needs,  and  that  they  were  substantiated  by  the  tes- 
timony of  the  human  heart.  Many  "pragmatists,"  it  seems, 
would  have  us  ask  no  other  test. 

Error  May  Work  for  a  Time. —  A  noble  error  that  works 
well  may  be  one  of  the  most  precious  possessions  of  a  society. 
The  only  thing  better  than  an  error  that  works  well  is  a 
truth  that  works  well.  The  great  trouble  with  a  useful  but 
erroneous  product  of  speculation  is  that  it  is  likely  sometime 
to  come  in  contact  with  incongruous  facts.  It  may  survive  the 
shock  if  such  contact  does  not  take  place  with  too  many  or  too 
impressive  facts,  or  in  too  many  minds,  and  often  does  survive 
such  contacts,  but  there  is  always  grave  peril  that  if  social 
order  is  founded  upon  noble  errors,  they  will  crumble  to  sand 
under  the  corrosion  of  exposure  to  newly  discovered  realities. 
Many  a  man  has  lost  his  religion  and  his  philosophy  of  life 
when  he  found  by  sad  experience  that  the  comfortable  doctrine 
he  had  held  concerning  the  protection  of  special  providence 
was  an  error.  Many  have  had  their  world  view  clouded  over 
or  destroyed  because  there  had  been  wrought  into  it  some 
superfluous  error  to  which  they  could  not  cling,  and  the 
abandonment  of  which  destroyed  their  faith  in  the  whole 
fabric.  In  a  time  of  intellectual  revelation  like  that  in  which 
we  live  it  is  assuming  a  terrible  responsibility  to  teach  the 
young  good  but  weak  speculations,  speculations  once  implicitly 
believed,  which  worked  well  so  long  as  they  were  believed  but) 
which  cannot  live  in  contact  with  the  facts  of  life,  of  history, 
and  of  nature.  The  only  safety  for  society  lies  in  having  the 


314 

leaders  of  its  thoughts  dig  boldly  down  through  all  speculation 
to  the  facts  of  life,  through  the  sand  to  the  rock.  We  have 
often  been  urged  to  hold  on  to  our  faith  when  that  has  meant 
build  in  the  mind  a  hermetically  sealed  compartment,  and 
stow  our  creed  and  our  ideals  in  a  safety  vault  where  the  facts 
of  life  and  the  current  of  thought  cannot  get  at  them.  To 
return  to  our  former  figure,  the  faith  to  which  men  need  to 
hold  is  faith  that  if  we  dig  through  the  sand  we  shall  find 
the  rock;  that  under  the  best  and  holiest  that  men  have 
dreamed  is  the  holier  and  better  reality  that  God  has  created, 
and  that  life  consists  in  adjusting  our  ideas  and  our  conduct 
to  the  actualities.  Not  all  are  bold  enough  to  hold  such  a 
faith  as  that.  Men  have  long  sought  to  derive  their  comfort  and 
their  inspiration  from  the  unknown.  We  must  look  for  it 
more  and  more  in  the  known.  Within  the  circle  of  human  con- 
cerns, and  the  range  of  human  faculties,  there  are  values  at 
stake  which  are  adapted  to  furnish  inspiration  and  call  forth 
man's  utmost  of  endeavor  and  devotion. 

'  Psychological  Principle  Underlying1  These  Two  State- 
ments Concerning1  Social  Suggestion. — The  fact  that  socially 
suggested  ideas  need  not  be  proved  in  order  to  be  believed,  nor 
approved  in  order  to  control  conduct,  is  an  application  of  the 
psychological  principle  that  ideas  function  J  unless  inhibited  by 
other  ideas. 

A  critical  attitude  toward  new  ideas  may  be  developed  after 
one  has  been  frequently  deceived;  but  even  then  an  idea 
once  formed  in  the  mind  has  the  tendency  to  be  believed  and 
acted  out,  though  its  tendency  to  be  believed  may  be  negatived 
by  the  presence  in  the  mind  of  contradictory  ideas,  and  its 
tendency  to  go  into  action  may  be  negatived  by  the  presence 
in  the  mind  of  ideas  with  an  opposite  motor  urge.  We  tend 
to  hold  and  act  upon  not  only  those  ideas  which  we  have  de- 
liberately accepted  or  approved  but  also  all  that  have  entered 
the  mind  and  have  not  been  definitely  cast  out  or  rejected. 

1  Of  course  this  means  that  they  set  up,  or  evoke,  functioning  of 
the  psychophysical  organism.  Sociology  has  no  need  to  meddle  with 
the  metaphysical  question  as  to  the  relation  between  the  psychic  and 
the  physical. 


The  nickel  in  the  slot  effect  is  produced  and  the  wheels  of 
activity  are  put  in  motion  whenever  the  idea  has  a  place  in 
the  attention,  and  just  in  proportion  as  it  has  a  place  in  the 
attention.  If  several  ideas  have  a  place  in  the  attention  they 
may  so  offset  each  other  as  to  produce  suspense,  deliberation, 
inaction,  and  it  is  painful  to  keep  the  attention  trained  long 
upon  the  subject  of  such  contradicting  ideas.  As  a  rule  the 
stimulation  of  one  idea  or  set  of  ideas  triumphs  soon  over 
its  opponents  and  the  course  of  thought  and  action  are  thus 
determined.  Attention  is,  or  at  any  rate  involves,  a  physical 
adjustment.  If  the  object  of  attention  is  external,  attention 
may  involve  the  direction  of  the  eyes  upon  it;  if  internal,  an 
idea  and  not  an  external  object  of  perception,  then  attention 
involves  the  focusing  of  the  neural  organs  of  its  contemplation. 
Attention  to  an  idea  involves  a  physiological  fact  and  it  has 
physical  consequences,  which  may  appear  in  the  blushing  of 
the  cheek  and  the  palpitation  of  the  heart,  and  also  in  setting 
up  the  thought  processes  of  the  brain  and  stimulating  the 
muscles  to  overt  activity,  as  in  the  case  of  the  cry  of,  "Fire !" 
Every  idea  dropped  into  the  mind  .tends  to  set  up  its  appro- 
priate series  of  functions,  cerebral  and  muscular. 

The  fact  that  an  idea  tends  powerfully  at  once  to  become 
a  belief,  if  it  is  uncontradicted  and  satisfies  any  intellectual  or 
practical  interest,  accounts  for  the  naivete  of  children  and 
savages.  They  may  have  excellent  minds  but  they  have  so 
little  in  their  minds  that  there  is  nothing  to  contradict  or 
challenge  the  ideas  that  are  suggested  to  them.  Similarly  an 
idea  of  action  goes  into  muscular  effect  upon  presentation  of 
opportunity  if  it  is  uncontradicted  and  satisfies  any  interest. 
It  tends  to  go  into  effect  even  though  it  satisfies  no  interest; 
thus  one  absent-mindedly  drinks  the  glass  of  water  before  him 
simply  because  the  glass  suggests  the  usual  action  and  an 
action  need  only  be  suggested  to  be  carried  out  though  there 
is  no  desire  for  the  action  or  even  a  good  forgotten  reason 
for  inhibiting  the  action.  In  fact  the  thought  of  doing  a 
most  undesirable  thing,  like  casting  oneself  from  a  high 
bridge,  tends  to  be  carried  out  if  because  of  its  very  horror  it 
so  rivets  the  attention  as  to  drive  out  of  mind  all  inhibiting 


316  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

ideas.  The  idea  when  we  get  it  has  a  purely  and  directly 
causal  effect.  And  suggestion  by  which  we  get  so  many  of  our 
ideas  is  as  really  a  causal  relationship  as  any  in  science. 

Sympathetic  Radiation. — Tremendous  as  is  the  signifi- 
cance of  social  suggestion  in  building  up  the  massive  social 
activities  we  shall  now  see  that  sympathetic  radiation  is 
scarcely  less  so.  Sympathetic  radiation  is  the  relation  between 
the  activities  of  associates  which  exists  when  the  manifesta- 
tion of  feeling  by. one  evokes  similar  feeling  in  the  other.  This 
is  the  mode  of  causation  by  which  tastes,  sentiments,  and 
moral  approvals  and  abhorrences  become  characteristic  of 
whole  societies. 

Most  of  the  definite  sentiments,  which  are  popularly  re- 
garded as  instinctive,  are  in  reality  caught  by  social  radiation 
from  the  society  by  which  we  are  surrounded  from  our  in- 
fancy. The  comparative  study  of  social  evolution  will  show 
us  that  societies  differ  as  much  with  reference  to  their  tastes, 
sentiments,  and  approvals  as  they  do  with  reference  to  their 
ideas.  There  are  people  who  think  it  beautiful  to  dye  their 
fingernails  red;  in  China  it  was  long  thought  beautiful  to  let 
them  grow  two  inches  long,  and  to  crush  the  feet  into  lumps ; 
there  are  people  of  very  considerable  advancement  in  civiliza- 
tion whose  women  blacken  the  teeth  and  regard  white  teeth 
in  the  mouth  of  a  married  woman  as  unseemly,  others  among 
whom  the  men  dye  their  beards  sky-blue,  and  others  who  eat 
the  body  of  dead  parents  as  a  mark  of  honor  to  the  deceased. 
If  we  examine  pictures  of  the  styles  of  successive  periods  we 
are  often  amazed  that  any  sane  being  should  willingly  appear 
in  such  fantastic  array.  Yet  these  gowns,  hats,  and  hair- 
dressings  were  felt  to  be  beautiful  in  their  time.  The  "hid- 
eous" old  sofa  of  colonial  pattern  that  formerly  reposed  in 
the  attic  and  would  have  disgraced  the  parlor,  has  lately  been 
brought  down  and  set  in  the  place  of  honor  and  is  prized  as 
much  as  a  fine  diamond.  The  diamond  itself  is  treasured  by 
each  mainly  because  it  is  treasured  by  all;  who  on  first  seeing 
a  great  diamond  would  of  himself  conceive  that  it  was  worth 
a  fortune,  or  so  desire  it  as  to  part  with  its  price  ?  There  was 
$  time  when  a,  single  tulip  bulb  brought  the  price  of  a  diamond, 


SOCIETY  FROM  WITHIN  317 

not  because  tulips  were  rare  but  because  certain  particular 
colorings,  by  cumulative  sympathetic  radiation  had  acquired  a 
fantastic  value.  Now,  feathers  on  the  legs  of  a  rooster  can 
multiply  his  value  two  hundred  times.  The  appalling  squawks, 
squeaks,  and  clangs  of  a  Chinese  orchestra  can  entrance  the 
soul.  Most  of  the  "higher"  artistic  appreciations  have  to  be 
cultivated,  and  the  method  of  their  cultivation  is  partly  a 
process  of  sympathetic  radiation  from  persons  whose  tastes 
are  trusted.  Styles,  esthetic  tastes,  in  so  far  as  they  belong  td 
particular  periods  or  localities  and  not  to  universal  humanity, 
and  economic  wants  result  mainly  from  sympathetic  radiations 
emanating  from  parents  and  teachers  or  from  "everybody"' 
or  from  the  "four  hundred"  or  from  those  who  live  next 
door. 

The  same  is  equally  true  of  standards  of  ambition.  They 
differ  from  place  to  place  and  are  established  and  perpetuated 
by  sympathetic  radiation.  The  Malay  head-hunter  is  ambi- 
tious to  have  a  long  row  of  skulls  above  his  door.  That  de- 
sire is  not  common  to  mankind ;  neither  is  it  original  with  him 
as  an  individual.  He  measures  his  own  success  and  worth  by 
this  standard  because  it  is  the  standard  of  his  group  and  he 
has  caught  it  by  sympathetic  radiation.  As  a  group  possession 
that  standard  has  had  a  social  evolution  and  a  specific  cause. 
Similarly  the  urchin  on  the  streets  of  Florence  may  be  ambi- 
tious to  become  a  sculptor,  and  on  the  streets  of  Chicago  such 
an  urchin  may  be  ambitious  to  become  a  professional  baM 
player  or  a  ward  boss.  For  the  same  cause  the  same  boy  who 
measures  his  future  success  by  the  ward  boss,  measures  his 
present  greatness  in  spring  by  the  number  of  marbles  he  can 
win,  and  in  the  fall  by  his  prowess  at  football  or  the  number 
of  inedible  horsechestnuts  he  can  gather.  Marbles  are  in- 
trinsically as  valuable  in  autumn  as  in  spring  but  the  boy  does 
not  desire  them  then,  for  the  social  valuation  has  deserted 
them  for  the  season.  And  as  the  boy  seeks  marbles  or  inedible 
chestnuts  so  his  elders,  often  oblivious  to  worthier  aims,  pur- 
sue with  ardor  the  ostentatious  display  of  wealth  or  other 
aims,  base  or  noble,  which  derive  their  glamour  largely  from 
sympathetic  radiation. 


3i8  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

Not  tastes,  wants,  and  ambitions  only,  but  quite  as  much 
moral  standards  differ  from  place  to  place,  arise  by  a  social 
evolution,  and  spread  ^and  perpetuate  themselves  by  sympa- 
thetic radiation.  A  generation  ago  it  was  entirely  possible 
for  many  of  the  most  cultured,  Christian,  and  refined  to  ap- 
prove of  slavery,  because  there  was  a  great  group  of  civilized 
and  Christian  people  in  which  the  approval  of  slavery  still 
prevailed,  and  the  approvals  of  the  group  by  sympathetic 
radiation  form  the  conscience  code  of  the  individuals  who 
are  born  into  the  group.  Abraham  practiced  polygamy  with 
a  clear  conscience  because  he  belonged  to  a  society  that  felt 
no  disapproval  of  polygamy.  It  is  possible  for  a  people  to 
have  strong  feelings  on  the  subject  of  sexual  propriety  and 
to  punish  adultery  with  death,  and  yet  regard  it  as  the  part  of 
hospitality  to  furnish  a  guest  with  a  temporary  wife.  Many 
peoples,  including  the  North  American  Indians,  are  brought 
up  to  feel  that  he  who  fails  to  avenge  an  injury  either  to 
himself  or  to  one  of  his  tribe  is  a  craven.  It  is  by  no  means 
necessary  or  justifiable  to  think  that  savages  by  nature  find 
the  practice  of  vengeance  more  congenial  than  it  would  be 
under  like  circumstances  to  our  own  race.  There  is  nothing 
that  may  not  be  made  by  sympathetic  radiation  to  seem  right 
to  the  individual  if  as  a  result  of  previous  social  evolution  it 
already  seems  right  to  the  group  into  which  he  is  born. 

No  one  is  born  with  a  conscience,  though  all  normal  human 
beings  are  born  with  the  capacity  to  develop  one.  Thousands 
even  in  civilized  society  never  have  the  opportunity  to  ac- 
quire a  normal  conscience.  A  conscience  code  is  a  prod- 
uct of  race  experience  in  social  evolution,  and  this  product 
of  race  experience  is  imparted  to  each  new  generation  by 
sympathetic  radiation.  By  the  hard  lessons  of  experience  each 
society  that  survives  and  progresses  learns  that  certain  types 
of  conduct  are  essential  and  other  types  of  conduct  are  de- 
structive to  the  realization  of  its  standard  of  social  welfafe. 
The  little  child,  before  it  can  speak,  learns  that  some  acts  are 
smiled  upon  and  some  are  frowned  upon.  When  doing  a 
forbidden  thing  it  knows  that  the  action  would  be  disapproved 
"if  mother  knew,"  and  usually  believes  that  the  act  is  known 


SOCIETY  FROM  WITHIN  319 

to  a  disapproving  God.  The  child,  like  the  man,  passes  very 
censorious  judgments  upon  others  who  do  the  things  that  are 
regarded  by  the  group  as  mean  and  despicable;  and  having 
passed  such  judgments  on  an  act  when  performed  by  an- 
other, cannot  straightway  do  the  same  without  feeling  that 
there  is  something  wrong.  The  logical  consistency  of  the  mind 
turns  the  judgment  which  he  has  passed  upon  others  in  upon 
himself.  Which  of  his  actions  shall  be  approved  and  which 
condemned  depends  upon  the  group  code  of  the  society  into 
which  he  chances  to  be  born.  He  acquires  his  equipment  of 
moral  sanctions  so  early  that  he  cannot  remember  that  he  ever 
lacked  them,  and  believes  that  they  were  born  with  him.> 
Especially  if  all,  or  nearly  all,  of  those  to  whom  he  looks  up 
in  his  habitual  social  contacts  have  the  same  conscience  code, 
he  thinks  that  all  properly  constituted  men  are  born,  having 
within  them  that  set  of  moral  sanctions  which  he  himself  has 
felt  from  before  his  earliest  recollection. 

The  conscience  code  is  not  imparted  to  the  young  merely 
or  even  mainly  by  precept.  To  state  the  idea  that  others 
approve  or  disapprove  such  and  such  actions  does  not  insure 
that  the  child  shall  feel  approval  and  disapproval  for  those 
acts.  Rather  he  acquires  by  sympathetic  radiation  the  feel- 
ings of  approval  and  disapproval  that,  are  not  merely  stated 
but  actually  felt  and  manifested  by  those  about  him.  Not 
moral  precepts  but  the  common  table  talk,  the  daily  conduct, 
words  spoken  of  neighbors  behind  their  backs,  the  ordinary 
course  of  life,  these  manifest  the  standards  of  ambition  and 
self- judgment  that  are  actually  felt  and  that  are  communicated 
to  the  young. 

Sympathetic  radiation  secures  the  prevalence  and  perma- 
nence not  only  of  tastes,  ambitions  and  approvals. but  also  of 
such  sentiments  as  prejudices,  hatreds,  and  loyalties — the  sen- 
timents which  attach  to  the  name  Republican  or  Demo- 
crat, to  Columbia,  the  flag,  and  the  hymns  we  have  sung  in 
great  congregations,  enmities  between  Bulgarians  and  Turks 
lasting  for  centuries,  and  the  like.  Of  these  principal  social 
realities  some  may  be  so  grounded  in  nature  and  circumstances 
that,  if  by  magic  they  could  be  wiped  out,  they  would  spring 


320  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

up  anew  in  many  breasts ;  yet  even  these  spread  by  sympathetic 
radiation  to  thousands  in  whom  they  would  not  have  taken 
independent  rise,  and  they  not  only  spread  but  are  intensified 
by  their  radiation  to  each  from  many.  Sentiments  survive 
by  sympathetic  radiation  long  after  they  have  ceased  to  be 
grounded  in  any  justification,  and  have  become  a  bar  to 
progress. 

Imitation. — Imitation  is  less  fundamental  than  suggestion, 
indeed  both  imitation  and  radiation  imply  the  presence  of 
some  degree  of  suggestion.  But  suggestion  may  exist  with- 
out imitation,  and  in  many  instances  the  suggestion  is  incon- 
spicuous while  the  imitation  is  impressive. 

In  the  last  chapter  we  treated  suggestion  and  imitation  as 
functions  of  the  same  predisposition  and  set  aside  as  erroneous 
the  teaching  of  Lloyd  Morgan  and  others  that  there  is  an  "in- 
stinct of  imitation." 

We  do  not  need  to  suppose  an  instinct  in  order  to  account 
for  the  fact  of  imitation;  we  only  need  to  remember  that  an 
idea  suggested  tends  to  realize  itself  in  action.  The  acts  of 
associates  are  constantly  suggesting  the  ideas  of  actions.  Ac- 
tion, not  resistance,  is  pleasurable,  and  especially  actions  of 
members  of  our  own  species  are  congenial  to  us ;  besides  to 
act  as  they  do  brings  us  into  sociable  relations  with  them. 

There  are  two  varieties  of  imitation,  namely,  ideomotor 
imitation  and  rational  imitation.  The  simple  and  often  un- 
recognized imitation  which  is  due  merely  to  the  fact  that  an 
idea  moves  us  to  corresponding  action  is  called  ideomotor; 
but  purposeful  imitation,  like  that  by  which  the  apprentice 
copies  his  master,  is  rational. 

Imitation  as  a  factor  in  building  up  and  perpetuating  prev- 
alent social  activities  may  be  illustrated  by  the  fact  that  a 
Northerner  going  South  or  a  Southerner  going  North  to  reside, 
in  time  and  without  any  purpose  to  do  so,  assimilates  his  pro- 
nunciation to  that  of  his  neighbors.  It  was  by  the  same  method 
that  those  born  into  that  society  caught  the  pronunciation  of 
their  section  with  their  earliest  speech.  An  American  who  has 
resided  for  years  in  France  is  likely  to  accompany  his  French 
speech  with  French  gestures.  Perhaps  all  peoples  raise  the 


SOCIETY  FROM  WITHIN  321 

eyebrows  and  open  the  mouth  when  astonished.  Esquimaux, 
Tlinkits,  Andamanese  and  Brazilian  Indians  accompany  this 
play  of  feature  by  a  slap  on  the  hips ;  the  Ainus  and  the  Shin- 
Wans  give  themselves  a  light  tap  on  the  nose  or  mouth,  while 
the  Thibetans  pinch  their  cheek;  the  Bantus  move  the  hand 
before  the  mouth,  while  the  Australian  and  Western  Negroes 
protrude  the  lips.1  The  modes  of  salutation  with  which  students 
greet  each  other  in  the  halls  of  German  universities  differ 
widely  from  those  exchanged  by  the  American  students. 
While  the  salutations  practiced  by  savage  and  barbarous  peo- 
ples present  curious  variations  between  groups,  and  estab- 
lished uniformities  within  the  groups,  Polynesians,  Malays, 
Burmese,  Mongols,  Esquimaux  and  others  sniff  each  other  or 
"rub  noses,"  while  the  kiss  is  unknown  over  half  the  world. 
The  gaits,  manner  of  carrying  the  elbows,  and  postures  of 
ladies  change  with  the  fashions.  Table  manners,  as  well  as 
other  forms  of  etiquette,  are  matters  of  imitation.  Some  of 
the  peoples  that  do  not  use  chairs  sit  crosslegged,  others  squat 
without  crossing  the  legs.  But  each  people  is  likely  to  have 
a  way  of  sitting  which  for  them  is  the  way.  Similarly 
games  like  baseball  or  tennis  or  boxing  develop  a  "form" 
which  for  the  time  being  is  accepted  and  prevails,  though  any 
champion  who  has  an  idiosyncrasy  may  start  a  new  wave  of 
imitation.  Fighting  also  has  its  "forms."  The  peoples  of 
northern  Europe  are  smashers,  pounders,  the  swinging  blow 
is  their  fighting  form,  and  the  hammer  of  Thor,  the  club,  the 
mace  and  the  battle-axe  their  characteristic  weapons,  and 
when  they  adopt  the  sword  they  make  it  a  saber,  falchion,  or 
broad-sword,  and  swing  it  as  if  it  were  a  club.  With  the 
peoples  of  southern  Europe  the  piercing  stab  is  the  fighting 
form.  The  Romans  conquered  the  world  thrusting,  and  the 
characteristic  sword  of  their  descendants  is  not  the  saber 
or  broad-sword,  but  the  rapier.  We  wonder  that  the  Japa- 
nese who  can  make  so  exquisite  a  blade  give  it  so  awkward  a 
shape  and  hang  and  handle.  It  is  awkward  for  a  swinging; 
blow  but  not  so  for  a  slicing-  push,  which  is  the  fighting  form 
of  the  Japanese.  Barbarous  and  savage  peoples  have  each 

1J,  Deniker:  The  Races  of  Man.    Scribners,  1904,  p.  iiPi 


322  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

their  fighting  form.  Fighting  form  may  be  somewhat  influ- 
enced by  build  and  temperament  as  well  as  by  imitation. 
Peoples  have  also  their  characteristic  working  form.  The 
Chinese  pull  the  saw  and  plane,  while  we  push  them.  The  ap- 
prentice learning  to  plaster  a  wall,  or  the  practitioner  of  any 
craft  or  art  learns  his  style  and  method  by  imitation. 

Imitation  is  a  causal  relation  between  an  overt  action  and 
the  antecedent  action  of  an  associate. 


<*•  xJUA*''/ 


CHAPTER  XVIII 
PRESTIGE   AND   ACCOMMODATION 

Prestige. — There  is  one  point  of  verisimilitude  in  the  myth 
which  attributes  the  custom  of  creasing  trousers  to  the  ex- 
ample of  an  English  lord,  who  being  unable  to  get  his  trunks 
out  of  the  custom-house  in  time  to  dress  for  the  social  en- 
gagements that  waited  upon  his  arrival  in  New  York,  pur- 
chased a  pair  of  readymade  trousers  and  wore  them  with  the 
creases  they  had  acquired  from  lying  in  a  pile  in  the  store. 
A  million  ordinary  immigrants  might  have  done  the  same 
without  affecting  the  fashions  of  New  York  society.  An 
opinion  or  a  sentiment  uttered  by  Mr.  Gladstone  or  Mr. 
Roosevelt  at  the  time  of  their  greatest  influence  might  become 
at  once  an  important  element  in  the  life  of  the  nation ;  it  might 
initiate  a  reform  or  precipitate  a  war.  Ten  thousand  com- 
mon men  might  form  and  express  the  same  opinion  or  sen- 
timent with  no  greater  effect  than  the  momentary  interest  of 
the  immediate  hearers.  As  in  the  topography  of  a  continent, 
a  farm,  or  a  dooryard  there  are  high  points  from  which  the 
water  flows  to  the  lower  lying  portions,  so  in  the  surface  of 
society,  whether  that  society  be  a  nation,  a  neighborhood,  or  a 
household,  there  are  points  of  comparative  elevation  from 
which  social  influence  flows  out. 

The  comparison  is  not  perfect  because  water  will  not  flow 
uphill,  and  social  influence  does  flow  in  some  degree  in  both 
directions.  Yet  the  comparison  and  the  foregoing  illustra- 
tions suffice  to  bring  to  mind  a  fact  of  social  relationship  of 
universal  presence  and  immeasurable  import  to  which  we 
give  the  name  of  "prestige."  *  Every  socius  has  some  degree 

{Q  .  -\ 

All  of  which  depend  for 
2.  Sympathetic  .        „ 

,.    .  ^mam  effectiveness  upon 
radiation 
T    .,   ..  prestige. 

3.  Imitation  \J  — s 

323 


324  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

of  causal  efficiency,  as  a  modifier  of  the  activities  of  his  as- 
sociates. Whatever  heightens  the  causal  efficiency  of  an  in- 
dividual or  of  a  class  so  as  to  make  that  individual  or  class 
more  effective  as  the  source  of  social  suggestion,  radiation, 
and  imitation  is  said  to  give  prestige. 

Kinds  of  Prestige. — Professor  Ross  classifies  the  forms  of 
prestige  thus : 

1.  The  prestige  of  numbers 

2.  The  prestige  of  age,  or  of  the  elders 

3.  The  prestige  of  prowess,  such  as  is  enjoyed  by  ath- 
letes or  military  leaders 

4.  The  prestige  of  sanctity,  or  of  the  priestly  class 

5.  The  prestige  of  inspiration,  or  of  the  prophets 

6.  The  prestige  of  place,  or  of  the  official  class 

7.  The  prestige  of  money,  or  of  the  rich 

8.  The  prestige  of  the  ideas,  or  of  the  elite 

9.  The  prestige  of  learning,  or  of  the  mandarins  1 

To  these  may  be  added  (10)  prestige  of  birth  or  of 
family,  which  in  origin  is  a  prolongation  of  other  forms  of 
prestige. 

The  comparative  influence  of  these  forms  of  prestige  in 
society  goes  far  to  determine  the  character  of  that  society. 
For  example,  preeminence  of  the  prestige  of  numbers  tends 
to  make  a  society  impulsive  rather  than  reasonable,  because 
feelings  easily  become  the  common  property  of  the  mass,  while 
reasons  for  moderating  impulse  and  for  adopting  well-con- 
sidered plans  are  less  easily  popularized.  It  is  by  no  means 
impossible  for  a  mass  of  people  to  act  reasonably;  but  if 
they  do,  it  is  because  wise  leaders  enjoy  prestige  and  have 
means  of  ready  communication  with  the  multitude.  Mass 
prestige  may  be  combated  by  other  forms  of  prestige,  but  of 
itself  it  tends  to  produce  an  impulsive,  as  distinguished  from 
a  reasonable,  people.  Impulsiveness  often  displays  itself  as 
fickleness,  but  often  too  it  displays  itself  as  stubbornness  and 
resistance  to  change,  whatever  the  prevalent  feeling  prompts. 

The  prestige  of  the  elders  played  a  leading  role  among 
primitive  men  and  still  does  so  among  savages.  In  civilized 

1  Social  Control,  p.  79. 


PRESTIGE  AND  ACCOMMODATION  325 

society  the  prestige  of  elders  has  a  tremendous  significance  in 
shaping  each  rising  generation.  Among  the  civilized  it  has  its 
chief,  but  by  no  means  its  only,  sphere  of  influence  in  the 
family.  The  prestige  of  elders  tends  to  make  society  conserva- 
tive, to  resist  new-fangled  notions,  and  to  maintain  the  vener- 
able traditions.  It  is  a  bulwark  of  order  and  stability.  It  is 
possible  for  an  advanced  society  to  get  its  character  from 
predominance  of  the  prestige  of  elders.  Prevalence  of  an- 
cestor worship  heightens  this  form  of  prestige.  Regard  for 
the  venerable  members  of  society  and  the  conservative  effect  of 
this  form  of  prestige  as  a  basis  of  social  organization  has 
been  made  familiar  by  the  rigidity  of  Chinese  traditions 
which  for  centuries  almost  ossified  that  great  society. 

A  manifestation  of  the  prestige  of  prowess  is  seen  in  the 
athletic  heroes  who  gratify  the  instinctive  impulses  of  group 
combat  as  they  are  aroused  by  intercollegiate  athletics.1 

The  social  dominance  of  the  military  class  enables  that 
class  to  impose  upon  society,  tastes,  moral  standards,  customs, 
and  social  stratifications.  The  original  discussion  of  the  broad 
general  contrast  between  a  society  formed  by  military  prestige 
and  one  formed  by  industrial  aims  and  ideals  is  that  of  Her- 
bert Spencer. 2  This  contrast  largely  explains  the  differences 
between  the  civilization  of  the  sixteenth  and  that  of  the  nine- 
teenth century,  and  between  the  social  life  of  nineteenth-cen- 
tury Prussia  and  of  nineteenth-century  America.  One  of  the 
numerous  characteristics  of  a  society  dominated  by  military 
prestige  is  the  punctilious  insistence  upon  rank  and  station.  In 
Prussia  to  this  day  two  gentlemen  on  the  sidewalk  are  quite 

1  Athletic  sports  are  among  the  priceless  possessions  of  our  society. 
In  college  we  ought  to  convert  a  large  proportion  of  the  "rooters"  into 
active  participants  in  athletic  games.     Intercollegiate  athletics,  because 
they  have  advertising  value,  have  been  allowed  to  receive  disproportion- 
ate emphasis  as  an  element  of  college  and  university  life,  in  some  re- 
spects to  the  detriment  of  sport  that  enlists  the  participation  of  larger 
numbers   and  that   develops  other  leadership  than  that  of  the  hired 
coach,  as  well  as  to  the  detriment  of  intellectual  competitions  that  appeal 
more  to  reason  but  less  to  instinct. 

2  Spencer :    Principles  of  Sociology.    Appleton,  1901.    See  index  to 
volumes  i  and  iii  for  many  references  under  "Militancy"  and  "Indus- 
trialism." 


326  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

aware  of  judging  which  is  entitled  to  walk  on  the  other's  right, 
and  in  Austria  even  the  wife  of  the  chimney-sweep  is  vividly 
conscious  who  are  her  social  inferiors  and  expects  them  to 
address  her  as  "Mrs.  Master  Chimney-Sweep."  It  must  be 
understood  that  the  military  class  do  not  impose  their  man- 
ners, tastes,  moral  standards,  or  opinions  upon  society  by  the 
exercise  of  force,  but  that  society  voluntarily  and  as  a  matter 
of  course  adopts  the  ideas,  sentiments,  and  practices  of  those 
of  its  members  who  have  the  greatest  prestige. 

The  prestige  of  sanctity,  or  of  the  priests,  powerful  as  it 
has  been  in  the  past,  and  still  is  in  many  places,  has  nearly 
faded  away  among  American  Protestants,  among  whom  the 
"minister"  must  win  his  influence,  as  a  man,  and  not  as  the 
official  of  a  Heavenly  Court. 

In  modern  society  the  prestige  of  the  official  class  is  con- 
siderable and  among  us  it  tends  to  increase  with  the  elevation 
of  politics,  and  with  the  extension  of  governmental  activi- 
ties. 

The  prestige  of  birth  has  been  most  influential  in  molding 
societies  and  very  often  has  so  outranked  the  prestige  of 
wealth  that  the  chief  of  the  clan  though  in  rags  commanded 
implicit  imitation  as  well  as  obedience.  Where  the  prestige 
of  birth  and  of  military  prowess  prevails,  society  is  so  strati- 
fied that  it  is  in  general  hopeless  for  one  to  seem  to  belong 
to  any  other  class  than  that  to  which  he  is  assigned.  Then 
the  serving  girl  may  wear  her  hood  or  a  kerchief,  declining, 
as  absurd,  to  wear  a  bonnet  like  that  of  her  mistress  even  if  it 
were  given  her. 

The  prestige  of  wealth  is  the  first  and  crudest  of  the  de- 
mocratizing standards.  It  is  democratizing  because  wealth  is 
not  permanent;  the  rich  may  sink  into  poverty  and  the  poor 
may  rise  to  wealth,  so  that  rank  according  to  wealth  is  not 
like  rank  by  birth — hopelessly  fixed.  Yet  social  estimation 
based  on  wealth  is  only  one  step  above  that  based  on  prowess, 
and  on  birth  from  men  of  prowess,  and  in  the  ages  to  come 
ought  to  yield  the  chief  place  to  prestige  of  the  elite  and  pres- 
tige of  achievement.  In  an  intelligent  democracy  even  prestige 
of  place  is  a  nobler  standard  than  prestige  of  mere  wealth.  In 


PRESTIGE  AND  ACCOMMODATION  327 

an  advancing  democracy  the  prestige  of  wealth  is  as  conserva- 
tive as  the  prestige  of  the  aged.  It  resists  change,  it  "stands 
pat"  and  does  what  it  can  to  make  the  advocacy  of  progressive 
change  "bad  form."  This  form  of  prestige  is  at  its  height  with 
us  and  molds  our  manners,  social  customs,  and  our  ambitions. 
How  much  it  influences  us  we  can  learn  only  by  comparing 
ourselves  with  a  society  less  influenced  by  this  form  of  pres- 
tige. We  have  so  thoroughly  adopted  money  standards  that 
we  find  it  difficult  to  imagine  a  state  of  society  in  which  men 
do  not  commonly  rate  themselves  and  each  other  by  their 
scale  of  income  and  in  which  people  do  not  commonly  try  to 
appear  to  have  spent  more  money  than  they  can  really  afford. 
Yet  such  societies  have  existed  and  will  exist  again  when  other 
forms  of  prestige  sufficiently  outrank  the  prestige  of  wealth. 
The  prestige  of  wealth  is  not  the  same  as  prestige  of  economic 
achievement.  Economic  achievement  as  an  evidence  of  per- 
sonal power  and  economic  production  as  distinguished  from 
mere  acquisition  is  a  socially  admirable  exercise  of  power. 

The  elite  should  not  be  defined  exclusively  in  terms  of  in- 
tellect, but  also  in  terms  of  morality.  It  is  not  enough  that 
the  elite  have  "ideas,"  they  must  also  have  the  social  spirit; 
those  who  follow  them  must  be  justified  in  believing  that  they 
think  and  act  with  sincere  interest  in  the  general  good.  With 
the  increase  of  public  intelligence,  and  of  experience  in  democ- 
racy, the  public  does  increasingly  insist  upon  devotion  to  the 
general  good  as  a  characteristic  of  its  leaders.  Doubtless 
there  is  still  great  room  for  progress  in  the  attitude  of  the 
public  on  this  point.  Yet  we  have  learned  to  be  suspicious  of 
self-seeking  in  public  places.  And  disinterested  devotion  to 
public  aims,  and  honesty  and  courage  in  the  pursuit  of  them, 
already  powerfully  command  the  following  of  the  masses. 
That  is  a  wise  society  in  which  the  masses  know  how  to  pick 
their  leaders.  No  society  has  ever  been  thoroughly  wise  in 
this  respect,  but  there  is  progress. 

The  prestige  of  the  learned,  or  of  the  "mandarins,"  tends 
to  be  conservative  in  a  conservative  age,  and  progressive  in  a 
progressive  age.  Mere  learning,  as  distinguished  from  the  in- 
tellectual quality  ascribed  to  the  elite,  does  not  originate,  but  it 


328  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

represents  acquaintance  with  the  intricacies  of  authorized 
knowledge  and  opinion.  It  is  the  equipment  of  the  specialist. 
The  prestige  of  the  specialists  is  rapidly  increasing  in  Ameri- 
can society.  That  is  because  science  has  an  ever-accumulating 
treasure  of  knowledge  applicable  to  practical  themes,  and 
still  more  because  technic,  industrial,  political,  and  social 
problems  are  ever  increasing  in  complexity;  as  the  native  re- 
sources of  the  continent  are  appropriated, -congestion  of  popu- 
lation increases,  heterogeneity  of  population  grows  more  men- 
acing, the  disparities  in  the  distribution  of  wealth  and  oppor- 
tunity become  more  glaring,  class  antagonisms  grow  fiercer, 
and  perhaps  most  of  all  because  the  partial  or  total  failure 
of  half -instructed  experiments  reveals  the  necessity  of  greater 
intelligence  in  the  guidance  of  endeavor. 

Nature  and  Grounds  of  Prestige. — The  elements  that  enter 
into  prestige  and  form  the  bases  of  its  effectiveness  may  be 
classified  as  logical,  quasi-logical  and  non-logical.  These 
names  refer  'to  the  attitude  of  those  who  are  influenced  and 
led :  Do  they  or  do  they  not  have  a  logical  ground  for  ac- 
cepting the  leadership  which  they  follow? 

Sometimes  it  is  enough  to  set  down  a  given  individual  leader 
or  a  group  which  exercises  leadership  as  an  instance  of  a 
particular  form  of  prestige,  but  quite  as  often  it  \vill  be 
necessary  to  make  an  analysis  and  observe  that  while  the  lead- 
ership of  the  group  or  individual  rests  primarily  on  some  one 
ground  it  is  also  bolstered  up  by  several  other  elements  of 
prestige. 

I.  Logical  prestige  is  based  upon  a  rational  judgment  that 
the  opinions,  sentiments,  or  acts  of  an  individual  or  class  of 
individuals  can  be  accepted  as  true,  right,  or  beneficent.  Such 
is  the  prestige  of  the  family  physician  in  matters  of  health, 
of  the  successful  man  in  the  concerns  in  which  he  has  suc- 
ceeded. Of  this  type  are: 

(a)  The  prestige  of  the  specialist, 

(b)  The  prestige  of  achievement  and 

(c)  The  prestige  of  the  elite,  that  is  those  who  have  given 
convincing  evidence  of  originality  and  social  spirit. 

After  all  that  has  been  said  of  the  non-logical  character  of 


PRESTIGE  AND  ACCOMMODATION  329 

social  suggestion  it  would  not  be  surprising  if  the  reader  had 
determined  not  to  be  influenced  by  any  kind  of  prestige,  but  to 
lead  an  independent  life.  But  that  is  as  impracticable  as  it 
would  be  to  live  without  eating.  It  is  impossible  for  an  individ- 
ual to  lead  an  independent  life ;  by  that  process  one  would  never 
become  an  individual  in  any  significant  sense.  We  should  all 
be  naked  savages  if  we  did  not  borrow  from  society.  It  is 
only  by  becoming  "heirs  of  all  the  ages"  that  we  develop  a 
life  that  is  worth  while.  Our  only  room  for  choice  is  in 
selecting  which  of  all  the  models  and  teachers  presented  we 
will  follow;  it  is  as  if  we  could  choose  our  parents  with  a 
view  to  inheriting  their  qualities  and  their  estates. 

2.  Quasi-logical  prestige  is  apparently  justified  by  a 
mental  process  which,  while  seemingly  logical  is  fallacious, 
by  a  conscious  or  subconscious  inference  which  is  not  justified 
by  the  facts.  As  illustration  of  quasi-logical  prestige  may  be 
noted : 

(a)  The  prestige  of  antiquity.    This  form  of  .prestige  is, 
no  doubt,  partly  sentimental  and  non-logical.    Yet  it  is  largely 
based  upon  the  conscious  or  subconscious  reasoning  that  what 
has  stood  the  test  of  time  and  long  experience  must  be  true, 
right,  and  beneficent.    But  as  a  matter  of  fact  it  is  not  unlikely 
that  the  ancient  is  the  antiquated,  the  superseded. 

(b)  The  prestige  of  modernness.    In  an  age  that  has  wit- 
nessed the  discovery  of  many  new  truths  and  the  introduction 
of  many  useful  inventions,  it  is  natural  to  infer  that  prestige 
belongs  to  whatever  is  most  modern  on  the  ground  that  it 
presumably  embodies  the  results  of  all  progress  "up  to  date." 
But  among  the  innovations  there  are  not  a  few  futile  specula- 
tions, revivals  of  ancient  errors,  new  superstitions,  and  untried 
experiments,  destined  for  to-morrow's  scrap-heap. 

(c)  The  prestige  of  numbers  is  largely  due  to  the  more  or 
less  conscious  inference  that  what  "everybody"  does  or  believes 
must  be  good  or  true.    It  would  be  at  least  as  justifiable  to 
say  that  despised  and  persecuted  minorities  are  always  right. 
The  history  of  science  and  of  religion  has  led  some  to  say  that 
heretics  are  always  right.     Those  who  differ  from  the  mass 
and  bear  the  cost  of  non-confcrmity  are  likely  to  have  some 


330  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

reason  for  doing  so.  The  new  beliefs  and  practices  which 
create  progress  necessarily  start  with  minorities. 

(d)  Transferred  prestige  is  that  which  is  based  upon  rea- 
soning like  this :  "He  is  a  great  man  and  therefore  ought  to 
be  followed,"  when  the  facts  only  justify  such  reasoning  as 
this :  "He  is  competent  in  certain  matters  and  therefore  in 
respect  to  those,  he  may  safely  be  followed."  That  is  to  say, 
the  prestige  which  is  justly  ascribed  to  one  in  reference  to 
certain  matters  is  transferred  to  other  matters  also.  Thus 
the  specialist  on  bridge-building  or  etymology  may  have  un- 
due influence  in  matters  of  religion,  and  the  football  player 
may  set  the  standard  of  neckties.  The  rich  are  thus  allowed 
unduly  to  influence  manners,  morals,  tastes,  and  opinions. 
And  the  "prestige  of  the  metropolis"  leads  the  young  minister 
erroneously  to  imagine  that  a  city  congregation  will  certainly 
be  more  intelligent  and  responsive  to  his  best  efforts  than  a 
village  parish  and  leads  the  small  town  to  borrow  from  the 
great  cities  building  ordinances  which  import  evils  that  are 
unavoidable  where  congestion  of  population  is  greatest,  but 
absurdly  unjustified  in  the  country. 

3.     Non-logical  prestige  includes  the  following  elements : 

(a)  Physical  prestige.     This  is  the  power  to  hold  atten- 
tion and  charge  suggestion  with  power,  that  comes  to  the  man 
on  the  platform,  the  man  on  horseback,  the  man  in  uniform, 
the  man  with  a  loud  voice,  the  tall  man,  the  strikingly  homely 
man,  the  man  with  long  hair  or  a  tall  hat,  or  to  the  big  head- 
line.    Physical  prestige  belongs  also  to  the  person  who  as- 
sumes the  confident  and  expansive  bearing  expressive  of  an 
aroused  instinct  of  dominance. 

(b)  The  prestige  of  contrast.    The  mere  fact  of  being  un- 
usual or  "different"  excites  notice,  quickens  interest  and  to  a 
degree  gives  prestige.    This  is  the  principle  of  notoriety.     It 
is  also  the  principle  of  "news."     This  accounts  for  the  fact 
that  the  daily  papers  find  it  worth  while  to  print  anything, 
however  insignificant  or  revolting,  if  it  be  only  unusual,  and 
for  the  fact  that  the  news  of  the  daily  press  gives  a  highly 
distorted  view  of  the  life  of  society,  omitting  the  regular,  nor- 
mal, and  usual,  and  seizing  on  the  abnormal  and  unusual.    The 


PRESTIGE  AND  ACCOMMODATION  331 

unusual  is  so  likely  to  be  inferior  to  the  normal  and  regular 
that  the  prestige  which  is  based  upon  it  is  more  likely  than 
other  forms  of  prestige  to  be  counteracted  by  an  emotional 
or  logical  antidote. 

(c)  Esthetic  prestige.     Beauty   of   every  kind  attracts 
and  holds  willing  attention  and  gives  prestige. 

(d)  Emotional  prestige.     All  other  grounds  of  prestige 
are  likely  to  awaken  emotion  so  that  emotion  pervades  and 
supports  prestige  in  nearly  all  its  forms.     Whatever  excites 
strong  feeling  rivets  attention,  and  attention  is  the  beginning 
of  thought  and  action.     This  is  true  even  of  the  emotion  of 
fear.     Men  are  like  the  birds  fascinated  by  the  snake ;  and 
what  we  fear  we  are  likely  also  to  admire.    The  same  is  true 
of  envy.    And  it  is  preeminently  true  of  liking  and  affection. 
Partisanship  exalts  the  influence  of  leaders  within  the  sect, 
party,  or  other  "we-group."    And  there  is,  moreover,  a  specific 
predisposition    toward    eager    and    loyal    subordination    to 
leaders. 

(e)  The  prestige  of  desire.     Society  must  have  leaders. 
This  is  one  of  the  fundamental  human  needs,  and  when  leaders 
are  not  great  enough  to  satisfy  the  demand,  men  magnify  their 
leaders  by  their  own  sentiment  and  imagination.    The  loyalty 
of  masses  to  particular  leaders  is  often  to  no  small  degree 
based  upon  a  foundation  of  popular  sentiment  and  imagina- 
tion built  by  desire.    Little  boys  choose  one  of  their  number 
to  pitch  on  their  ball  team,  and  then  attribute  to  him  won- 
derful speed  and  mythical  curves,  till  they  are  disillusioned 
by  the  facility  with  which  their  opponents  hit  the  ball.     A 
nation  going  to  war  needs  a  great  general,   and  attributes 
greatness  to  the  general  it  has.    McClellan  is  a  second  Napo- 
leon until  his  failure.     Parties  similarly  magnify  their  can- 
didates. 

Moreover,  one  of  the  desires  of  society  is  for  glory  and 
this  leads  society  to  magnify  to  the  utmost  the  glory  of  its 
conspicuous  representatives.  The  glory  of  the  dead  heroes 
of  a  people  waxes  thus,  unhindered  by  the  jealousy  of  the  liv- 
ing, and  in  a  credulous  age  the  results  are  marvelous.  Even 
in  a  skeptical  age  and  with  respect  to  living  heroes,  the  de,- 


332  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

sire  of  the  multitude  heightens  the  prestige  of  representative 
citizens  for  the  mere  love*of  glory,  as  well  as  when  the  station 
occupied  is  one  where  men  feel  that  for  practical  reasons  they 
need  a  great  man. 

But  the  prestige  of  desire  plays  its  chief  role  in  the  way 
indicated  at  the  opening  of  this  section;  that  is,  when  men 
comfort  themselves  with  the  belief  that  their  leaders  are  equal 
to  the  practical  demands  upon  them,  and  pay  greatest  heed 
to  those  for  whose  success  they  feel  the  greatest  need.  If 
riots  break  out  in  Paris,  says  Tarde,  everybody  knows  the 
Prefect  of  Police,  and  his  ideas  and  sentiments  have  publicity 
and  influence,  though  before  the  riots  nobody  knew  the  name 
of  that  official  or  thought  of  his  existence.  Professor  Tarde 
devotes  one  of  his  books  1  mainly  to  elaborating  and  illustrat- 
ing the  thesis  that  the  seat  of  power  in  any  society  rests  with 
the  class  which  discharges  the  most  desired  function  and 
shifts  with  changes  in  popular  desire  or  conscious  need,  as 
for  example  to  the  military  class  when  protection  or  glory 
is  the  dominant  desire,  to  the  priestly  class  when  fear  of  the  un- 
seen gives  rise  to  the  most  urgent  sense  of  need,  to  the  captain 
of  industry  when  material  wants  are  uppermost,  to  the  special- 
ist when  the  need  of  guidance  is  realized.  And  with  the  shift- 
ing of  the  chief  seat  of  power  in  a  society  the  general  char- 
acter of  that  society  alters.2  But  many  of  the  elements  of 
prestige  working  together,  go  to  determine  the  character  of 
every  society,  and  which  of  these  elements  is  predominant 
may  depend  upon  all  of  the  types  of  causes  which  we  have 
recognized  as  playing  their  role  in  the  molding  of  social 
realities.  Like  everything  else  the  alterations  of  prestige  in  a 
given  society  are  both  effects  and  causes. 

1  Les  Transformations  Du  Pouvoir. 

*  An  interesting  study  of  the  rise  and  fall  of  scholarship  averages 
of  fraternities  at  the  University  of  Illinois  culminates  in  the  conclusion 
that  "in  most  cases  high  or  low  averages  are  not  dependent  so  much 
upon  the  presence  in  the  chapter  of  a  number  of  exceptionally  high- 
or  low-grade  men  as  upon  the  presence  or  absence  of  a  masterful 
leader.  Transformations  in  the  character  of  society  at  large  accom- 
pany the  shifting  of  prestige  from  one  type  of  achievement  and 
leadership  to  another, 


PRESTIGE  AND  ACCOMMODATION  333 

Accommodation.1 — When  a  pebble  falls  into  a  pool  of  still 
water,  circles  of  wavelets  begin  to  spread  across  the  surface. 
Similarly  whenever  there  is  an  innovation  in  society  it  tends  to 
spread  in  widening  circles  of  prevalence.  '  New  ideas  spread 
by  suggestion;  new  sentiments,  tastes,  wants,  ambitions,  ap- 
provals, and  disapprovals  spread  by  sympathetic  radiation ; 
new  practices  spread  by  imitation.  If  two  pebbles  are  thrown 
into  the  pool  the  widening  circles  sooner  or  later  meet  and 
interfere.  Similarly  the  circles  of  spreading  social  suggestion, 
sympathetic  radiation  and  imitation  meet  and  interfere,  and 
they  may  either  reen force  and  heighten  each  other  or  impede 
and  even  obliterate  each  other.  For  example  the  idea  that 
man  was  created  by  a  very  simple  mechanical  process  on  the 
last  of  six  creative  days  of  four-and-twenty  hours  each  was 
passing  in  regular  pulsations  from  generation  to  generation, 
when  suddenly  new  rings  of  suggestion  emanated  from  the 
laboratories  of  certain  scientists,  bearing  ideas  of  a  far  di- 
viner mode  of  creation,  and  these  new  emanations  began  to 
disturb,  and  finally  to  break  and  smooth  away  the  ideas  borne 
by  earlier  suggestions.  But  socially  suggested  ideas  cor- 
roborate each  other  quite  as  often  as  they  conflict.  Thus  suc- 
cessive scientific  discoveries,  such  as  those  relating  to  'embry- 
ology and  the  finding  of  prehistoric  human  remains  of  far 
greater  antiquity  than  had  been  ascribed  to  man,  corroborated 
each  other  and  raised  higher  and  spread  faster  the  widening 
circles  of  belief  in  evolution.  Specific  suggestions  are  often 
borne  on  upon  the  waves  of  some  general  belief  already  cur- 
rent. Thus  the  general  belief  in  witchcraft  or  in  miracles 
made  it  easy  to  credit  many  tales  that  to-day  would  make 
little  headway  in  our  society.  Rumors  about  a  man  or  an 
institution  spread  or  die  out  according  to  their  relation  to 
existing  opinion  in  relation  to  the  man  or  institution  con- 
cerned. Thus  ideas  •  corroborate  or  undermine  other  ideas. 
New  scientific  and  historical  ideas  have  corroborated  each 

1  The  discussion  of  this  topic  may  be  supplemented  by  reading 
Tarde :  The  Laws  of  Imitation,  Tr.  Henry  Holt  &  Co.,  1903,  p.  23  ff. ; 
and  Cooley :  Social  Organization  a  Study  of  the  Larger  Mind,  Scrib- 
ners,  1909,  chap.  xii. 


334  INTRODUCTION   fO  SOCIOLOGY 

other  till  their  common  strength  has  become  irresistible.  At 
the  same  time  these  scientific  ideas  have  obliterated  many 
superstitions  and  erroneous  pre-scientific  views  concerning  the 
subjects  to  which  they  apply,  and  have  even  had  power  to 
recast  traditional  theology. 

As  ideas  corroborate  or  contradict  each  other,  so.  senti- 
ments reenforce  or  weaken  and  even  nullify  other  sentiments. 
For  example,  patriotic  and  partisan  loyalty  heightens  admira- 
tion for  the  qualities  of  our  own  heroes.  Practical  selfish 
desires  may  deaden  moral  sentiments  of  which  the  classic 
example  for  Americans  is  the  disappearance  of  anti-slavery 
sentiment  in  the  South  after  the  invention  of  the  cotton  gin. 
A  large  portion  of  private,  business,  and  political  life  illus- 
trates this  principle. 

Not  only  may  ideas  corroborate  or  undermine  ideas,  senti- 
ments heighten  or  nullify  sentiments  and  imitations  combine 
into  systems  of  conduct  or  replace  each  other,  but  also  an 
element  of  any  one  of  these  three  kinds  may  either  heighten 
or  diminish  the  strength  and  prevalence  of  elements  of  either 
of  the  other  kinds.  Thus  an  idea  may  heighten  or  impede 
the  spread  of  overt  activity  or  contract  the  prevalence  of  an 
activity  already  widespread.  For  example,  ideas  concerning 
the  effects  of  alcohol  and  sentiments  of  disapproval  in  regard 
to  it  have  greatly  contracted  its  use  in  society.  Ideas  tend 
to  heighten  or  suppress  sentiments,  and  sentiments  often  have 
as  much  power  as  arguments  to  promote  belief  or  disbelief 
in  ideas.  People  find  great  difficulty  in  entertaining  beliefs 
that  are  too  radically  opposed  to  their  desires  and  other  sen- 
timents, but  have  great  facility  in  adopting  beliefs  that  coin- 
cide with  their  sentiments.  Thus  belief  in  the  divine  right 
of  kings  appealed  to  philosophers  and  common  people  alike 
when  society  was  emerging  from  the  disorders  of  the  Middle 
Ages  and  the  hope  of  peace  and  prosperity  seemed  to  lie  in 
developing  an  irresistible  sovereignty:  but  when  the  power  of 
central  government  had  grown  oppressive,  then  men  no  longer 
thought  that  the  right  of  kings  to  rule  was  divine,  but  that  it 
depended  on  "the  consent  of  the  governed";  they  no  longer 
thought  that  in  a  state  of  ungoverned  nature  "man  is  a  wolf 


PRESTIGE  AND  ACCOMMODATION  335 

to  man,"  but  rather  they  believed  that  nature  makes  men  free 
and  happy  so  that  the  way  to  welfare  is  by  removal  of  re- 
straints and  "return  to  nature."  The  people  of  silver-produc- 
ing states  were  convinced  by  the  free  silver  arguments ;  not  so 
those  of  the  commercial  states.  Because  of  the  same  principle 
different  social  classes  hold  different  economic  and  political 
creeds. 

The  effects  of  ideas  and  sentiments  upon  each  other  within 
the  individual  mind  the  psychologist  studies,  but  the  sociologist 
takes  this  knowledge  from  psychology  and  from  common  ex- 
perience as  a  datum.  By  "accommodation,"  the  sociologist 
means  that  the  partially  conscious,  but  largely  unconscious 
process  by  which  individuals  "change  their  minds,"  or  corre- 
late their  ideas  and  sentiments  into  an  established  individuality, 
works  on  a  grand  scale  in  society,  molded  by  suggestion, 
radiation,  imitation  and  the  conditioning  material  environment, 
so  that  the  prevalent  social  activities  change  in  character,  or 
correlate  into  a  solid  social  constitution. 

By  this  process  of  accommodation  the  activities  of  a  society, 
its  practices,  beliefs,  and  sentiments  adapt  themselves  into 
a  correlated  and  organic  unity  into  which  disturbing  elements 
make  way  with  difficulty.  Yet  they  do  make  way,  partly 
by  their  own  power  to  move  the  minds  and  hearts  of  men, 
but  partly  also  by  virtue  of  changes  in  the  conditions.  And 
when  a  new  idea,  sentiment,  or  practice  has  made  its  way  it 
tends  to  become  part  of  a  new  establishment  of  a  balance  of 
power  among  social  activities — a  natural  social  order. 1 

We  have  now  passed  in  review  the  four  kinds  of  condi- 
tions which  are  the  causal  antecedents  out  of  which  social 
realities  issue  and  by  the  modification  of  which  social  realities 
are' modified,  namely:  (i)  the  natural  physical  environment; 
(2)  the  technic  environment,  including  (a)  population  groups 
in  varying  degrees  of  density  and  (b)  wealth  in  diverse 
amounts,  forms,  and  states  of  ownership;  (3)  the  psycho- 
physical  conditions,  or  tendencies  and  capacities  of  the  human 

1  EXERCISE:     Give  an  instance  of   accommodation.     What   is  the 
nature  of  each  of  the  elements  involved — idea,  sentiment,  or  practice,^ 
and  what  the  effect  of  the  collision  on  each? 


336  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

organisms  composing  the  population,  both  hereditary  and  ac- 
quired; and  finally  (4)  the  social  conditions,  or  causal  rela- 
tions between  the  activities,  similar  or  diverse,  which  are 
included  in  the  social  process,  or  life  of  society.1 

The  relative  importance  of  these  different  factors  has  been 
variously  estimated.  Indeed  each  student  who  has  devoted 
his  attention  to  tracing  the  consequences  of  any  of  these  four 
seems  to  have  been  so  impressed  with  the  importance  of 
that  one  as  to  be  inclined  to  regard  it  as  the  most  important 
of  all.  One  of  the  services  of  sociology  is  to  afford  a  stand- 
point from  which  the  importance  of  all  four  can  be  per- 
ceived. 

1  The  analysis  of  social  conditioning,  and  its  place  in  the  gentral 
system  of  causes  affecting  society  may  now  be  thus  presented  in  out- 
line: 

i.  Geographic  conditions 

a.  Technic  conditions  /  P°P^ation  grouping 

L  Amount,  forms  and  distribution  of  wealth 

3.  Psychophysical  conditions  J 

[Acquired 

ILogicaH  Compli- 
Quasi-        cated 
logical   >    by 
Non-        Accommo- 
logical  J  dation 


PART   II 
NATURE  AND  ANALYSIS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  SOCIETY 


CHAPTER   XIX 
THE   NATURE    OF   THE    LIFE    OF    SOCIETY 

Life  of  Society.; — We  have  now  provided  ourselves  with 
the  clues  that  must  be  used  in  explaining  social  realities,  and 
it  is  time  for  us  to  fix  attention  upon  those  realities  them- 
selves which  we  wish  to  explain. 

What  kind  of  realities  out  there  in  the  real  world  are 
the  objects  to  be  explained  by  this  particular  study?  What 
is  it  that  we  see  when  we  look  across  the  world  of  social 
reality  ?  We  see  people  working  and  striving  or  amusing  them- 
selves ;  pursuing  aims  base  and  noble  by  methods  well  or  ill 
devised ;  a  number  of  scientists  deployed  over  the  face  of  the 
earth  seeking  to  understand  nature;  politicians  and  statesmen 
striving  for  power  and  its  prerequisites  with  greater  or  less 
regard  for  the  interests  of  their  fellowmen;  business  men 
competing  for  the  success  which  they  measure  by  wealth; 
laborers  toiling  for  a  modicum  of  the  material  means  of  com- 
fort; mothers  engaged  mainly  in  domestic  pursuits,  and  other 
women  engaged  mainly  in  the  various  pursuits  of  amusement, 
including  the  game  of  competitive  ostentation;  artists  body- 
ing forth  their  souls  and  catering  to  the  tastes  of  pleasure- 
seekers  ;  professional  sportsmen  also  catering  to  pleasure- 
seekers,  and  professional  sports  seeking  to  amuse  themselves 
and  fleecing  the  lambs  for  the  means  thereto ;  criminals  devis- 
ing and  executing  the  plots  by  which  they  prey  upon  their 
kind ;  church  people  endeavoring  to  maintain  and  extend  their 
several  zions,  nourish  their  own  souls,  and  save  as  many  as  they 
can  reach;  philanthropists  within  and  without  the  church  en- 
deavoring, some  as  their  chief  occupation  and  others  with 
such  energies  as  the  demands  of  other  callings  permit,  to 
promote  the  welfare  of  their  kind ;  many  pursuing  useful  call- 
ings less  usefully  than  they  should,  or  even  harmfully  because 

339 


340  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

so  selfishly,  and  spreading  moral  contagion  by  their  presence; 
others  pursuing  their  callings  with  the  aim  to  do  their  work 
as  part  of  the  cooperative  fulfillment  of  good  human  possi- 
bilities, and  by  their  presence  keeping  alive  man's  faith  in 
men  and  in  the  worth  of  noble  endeavor  and  its  fruits.  What 
we  see  is  a  vast  streaming  of  diversified  and  mutually  condi- 
tioning activities.  Whatever  else  we  see  that  is  sociologically 
important  are  the  changes,  conditions,  consequences  and  rela- 
tions of  these  activities. 

The  In  and  Out  of  Conscious  Life. — All  these  activities  of 
society  are  of  course  carried  on  by  the  individuals  who  com- 

e  society,  and  as  the  activities  of  individuals  are  made  up 
of  psychological  elements,  so  the  activities  of  society  as  a 
whole  must  be  made  up  of  psychological  elements.  For  an 
understanding  of  the  minute  parts  of  which  the  vast  stream 
of  social  activity  is  composed,  sociology  must  fall  back  upon 
psychology,  much  as  physiology  must  rely  upon  chemistry 
for  an  understanding  of  those  minute  processes  which  are 
included  in  physical  life.  A  custom  or  an  institution  is  made 
.up  of  psychic  elements,  as  a  tree  or  an  animal  is  made  up  of 
chemical  elements. 

Consciousness  grows  out  of  the  necessity  of  making  one's 
conduct  fit  one's  situation.  We  feel  the  pain  of  fire  in  order 
that  we  may  escape  it ;  we  see  the  path  in  order  that  we  may 
follow  it.  The  acts  that  go  forth  from  us  must  be  guided 
by  the  impressions  that  come  in  upon  us  from  the  external 
world. 

Speaking  schematically,1  therefore,  we  may  say  that  the  con- 
scious life  of  man,  whether  regarded  as  an  individual  or  as  a 
member  of  society,  is  an  in-and-out  process.  The  ray  of  light 
from  a  red  apple  comes  in  through  a  child's  eye,  and  out 

1  As  only  this  short  paragraph  is  devoted  to  recalling  the  teachings 
of  psychology,  its  crass  schematism  will  not  be  severely  judged  by 
any  just  critic.  Especially  there  is  no  intention  to  minimize  the  "spon- 
taneous" activities  of  the  organism,  which  are  as  out  of  proportion  to 
the  momentary  stimulus  as  the  burning  of  Chicago  to  the  overturning 
of  a  stable  lantern,  because  memory  and  propensity  are  wakened  and 
set  to  work,  and  each  inner  activity  that  is  aroused  arouses  others 
still. 


THE  NATURE  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  SOCIETY 


341 


flashes  the  impulse  that  carries  his  hand  to  the  apple.  The 
incoming  sensation  of  light  combines  with  remembered  sen- 
sations of  touch,  taste,  weight,  and  smell  to  form  a  concep- 
tion of  an  apple,  for  the  previous  income  of  the  mind  has  been 
saved  up  in  memory  to  be  used  in  interpreting  whatever  may 
come  in  later.  As  new  sensations  combine  with  remembered 
sensations  to  form  perceptions,  so  also  new  perceptions  com- 
bine with  memories  of  former  perceptions  to  yield  more  com- 
plex ideas  and  inferences.  All  the  perceptions,  ideas,  and.  irt- 
ferences  thus  compounded  out  of  incoming  sensations,  new 
and  remembered,  constitute  the  subject  matter  of  intellectual 
life.  This  is  the  mind's  income. 

The  outgo  is  of  two  sorts.  Whenever  an  incoming  sensa^ 
tion  arrives  and  sets  the  interpreting  ideas  trouping  out  of 
memory  into  consciousness  a  twofold  outgo  also  takes  place. 


S  =  sensation 

M  =  memory  centers 

I  =  income 


O  =  outgo  and  branches  into 
M'  =  motor  outgo  and 
E  =  emotional  outgo. 


First,  out  go  the  propulsions  that  incite  the  muscles  to  grasp 
the  apple  or  to  seize  or  repel  or  manipulate  the  object,  what- 
ever it  is,  or  to  speak,  to  write,  to  smile  or  to  shout.  This 
is  the  part  of  the  process  which  can  be  observed  by  the 
bystander.  We  each  observe  this  form  of  outgo  in  all  those 


342  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

who  surround  us,  and  this  is  the  part  of  the  whole  process 
which  first  gets  the  name  of  "activity,"  although  it  is  no 
more  intensely  active  than  the  income  or  the  emotional 
outgo. 

Besides  this  outgo  to  the  muscles  which  are  adapted  to 
doing  definite  things  and  to  affecting  the  external  world,  there 
is  also  an  indefinite,  vague,  and  diffused  outgo  to  the  whole 
body  which  may  be  strong  enough  to  cause  the  sinking  or 
bounding  of  the  heart,  the  flushing  or  the  blanching  of  the 
cheek,  and  which  for  consciousness  is  feeling  o£  emotion.  So 
our  conscious  life  may  be  said  to  be  composed  of  intellectual 
income  and  motor-emotional  outgo. 

Experience-Activity. — This  brief  discussion  of  the  in-and- 
out  of  conscious  life,  it  may  be  hoped,  will  help  to  rid  us  of 
the  common  feeling  that  only  muscular  movement  can  be 
properly  called  "activity."  Muscular  movement  is  indeed  what 
we  see  going  on  about  us  as  a  manifestation  of  the  activity 
of  our  associates,  but  the  moment  we  begin  to  think  what 
activity  is  as  we  carry  it  on  in  our  own  experience,  when 
we  realize  the  inner  quality  of  our  own  activity,  as  we  can 
only  infer  that  of  other  people,  we  perceive  that  we  can  be 
most  intensely  active  without  moving  a  muscle.  The  student 
at  his  task,  the  scientist  pondering  his  hard  problem,  is  active. 
The  captain  of  industry  buried  in  plans  is  more  intensely  active 
than  any  shoveler.  It  is  not  muscular  exertion  but  psychic 
activity,  which  may  or  may  not  be  accompanied  by  any  move- 
ment of  muscle,  which  oftenest  brings  on  prostration  of  the 
physical  powers. 

Of  some  things  we  are  conscious;  of  others  we  are  only 
aware.  We  are  aware  of  material  objects,  such  as  a  tree, 
our  clothes,  a  hammer  or  saw,  and  our  own  muscular  move- 
ments. We  become  awa're  of  these  by  the  medium  of  sense 
perception  (sensation  and  inference)  ;  but  we  are  conscious  of 
our  own  ideas  and  feelings  directly  and  immediately.  Our 
own  ideas  and  feelings  are  the  only  phenomena  of  which  we 
can  be  conscious.  A  man  may  be  aware  of  the  movement  of 
his  muscles  as  he  may  be  aware  of  the  movements  of  his 
clothes  or  his  tools  but  he  is  never  conscious  of  such  move- 


THE  NATURE  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  SOCIETY         343 

ments.  He  is  conscious  only  of  the  psychic  income;  but  the 
physiological  outgo,  both  the  outgo  to  the  muscles,  and  that 
to  the  visceral  system,  is  promptly  reported  back  as  sense  of 
our  own  activity  and  as  emotion;  and  these  become  part  of* 
the  mind's  income  and  help  to  determine  the  next  outgo. 
These  psychic  elements  are  man's  activities  as  they  exist  for 
his  own  consciousness. 

For  his  own  consciousness  the  activity  of  any  worker,  say 
a  carpenter  successfully  engaged  in  building  a  table,  is  a  set 
o£  ideas  defining  that  which  he  will  make  and  the  methods  he 
will  use  together  with  a  liking  for  the  design  of  the  table, 
desire  for  its  fulfillment,  and  the  confident  expectation  of  its 
gradual  realization  as  a  result  of  his  own  activity;  then  also 
a  series  of  muscle  and  joint  sensations  reporting  how  the 
physiological  outgo  from  these  neuroses  is  being  carried  on, 
and  as  a  result  of  these  muscular  movements,  he  also  per- 
ceives the  table  taking  shape  and  the  outgo  from  this  per- 
ception is  felt  as  emotional  approval,  that  is,  satisfaction. 
Muscular  movements  of  our  associates  reveal  to  us  their  psy- 
chic activities  but  the  muscular  movements  are  not  psychic 
activities  but  physical,  physiological,  mechanical.  The  con- 
scious life  is  made  up  of  the  in-and-out  of  ideas  and  feelings  1 
which  combine  in  each  concrete  state  of  consciousness,  each 
"experience."  Therefore,  the  compound  word  experience- 
activities  is  descriptive  and  helpful  as  a  designation  for  the 
concrete  psychic  activities,  the  only  activities  which  one  owns 
in  the  sense  that  they  are  parts  of  his  stream  of  conscious- 
ness, his  conscious  life,  as  distinguished  from  the  vegetative 
and  the  muscular  physical  activities  of  which  one  is  never 
conscious  but  only  more  or  less  aware  by  aid  of  sensation,  as 
we  are  aware  of  our  tools  and  our  clothes.  Social  activities 
as  well  as  individual  activities  for  the  consciousness  of  the 
actors  are  not  visible  muscular  movements  but  inner  move- 
ments of  the  mind.  This  fact  gives  rise  to  such  expressions 

1  Some  would  add  "volitions"  but  I  agree  with  those  who  teach 
that  what  we  call  volition  can  be  analyzed  into  feelings  and  ideas,  and 
are  not  a  separate  kind  of  psychological  element.  Volition  is  the  net 
resultant  of  our  ideas  and  feelings.  &V  \JL*V«i-  Ufry*t»i  tf1**1 

^ 


344  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

as  "public  opinion,"  "public  sentiment,"  and  "the  will  of  the 
majority."  1 

The  Essential  Social  Phenomena  Are  Psychic. — The  essen- 
tial social  phenomena  are  the  ^spiritual  heritage  of  a  people, 
A  Robinson  Crusoe  cast  naked  upon  an  uninhabited  island 
would  take'  with  him  his  individual  share  of  the  social  pos- 
sessions of  the  group  to  which  he  belonged,  religion,  language, 
practical  arts,  and  all.  They  never  could  have  been  developed 
by  a  man  in  isolation;  some  of  them  cannot  be  much  used 
by  a  man  in  isolation,  but  in  so  far  as  a  lone  man  can  have 
them  he  needs  no  baggage  to  take  them  along,  but  takes  his 
share  in  the  social  realities  wherever  he  takes  his  conscious  life. 
For  example,  he  has  taken  the  practical  arts  and  will  begin 
to  make  use  of  them  so  far  as  the  raw  materials  of  his 
island  permits.  It  is  often  said  that  the  Pilgrims  in  the  May- 
flower brought  over  to  these  shores  their  English  institutions. 
They  did ;  but  where  did  they  bring  them  ?  Were  they  packed 
in  a  cedar  chest?  Were  they  stored  in  the  hold  of  the  May- 
flower? No,  they  were  in  the  minds  of  the  Pilgrims.  Their 
religion  and  their  institutions  were  their  main  freight,  but 
these  were  wholly  immaterial  psychic  or  spiritual  possessions. 

If  when  visiting  a  strange  town  you  point  to  a  large  build- 
ing and  ask,  "What  is  that  institution  ?"  the  true  answer  would 
be,  "It  is  not  an  institution  at  all,  it  is  no  more  an  institu- 
tion than  a  chest  of  tools  is  a  carpenter,  it  is  a  piece  of 
apparatus  employed  by  an  institution  and  so  by  met6n<imy  ft 
may  be  called  an  institution."  Suppose  it  is  a  courthouse. 
If  that  courthouse  should  burn  down  to-night,  would  the  insti- 
tution of  the  courts  be  destroyed  from  that  community  ?  No, 
it  would  be  there  ready  to  rebuild  its  apparatus.  If  the  people 

1  EXERCISE  :  Has  this  university  or  community  a  life  and  charac- 
ter of  its  own  which  gives  it  unity  and  identity  as  a  distinct  society? 
If  so,  what  are  the  elements,  included  in  the  life  of  this  society?  In 
the  list  which  you  have  made,  in  answer  to  the  preceding  question, 
which  items  are  substantive  and  which  are  merely  adjective?  Are  all 
the  substantive  elements  activities  that  prevail  in  this  society?  Which 
of  the  adjective  items  in  yxmr  description  of  this  society  name  qualities 
of  the  prevalent  activities  i  Which  items  in  your  list  name  conditions 
of  those  activities? 


THE  NATURE  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  SOCIETY         345 

of  the  town  should  emigrate,  as  the  Pilgrims  did,  they  would 
not  take  with  them  their  courthouse,  but  they  would  take 
with  them  their  institution  of  the  courts. 

A  church  building  may  be  changed  into  a  factory  or  a 
skating-rink,  and  a  bigger  and  better  building  be  dedicated 
to  the  religious  uses  that  the  older  structure  had  served.  The 
beliefs,  sentiments,  and  practices  that  combine  to  form  the 
living  institution  which  we  call  "the  church"  has  then  changed 
its  shell.  The  building  never  was  the  institution ;  an  institu- 
tion is  ajparticular  system  of  activities,  which  we  must  later 
learn  more  accurately  to  define. 

The  Scientific  and  Practical  Problems  of  Sociology. — The 
scientific  problems  of  sociology  are:      (i)    to  describe  and  £*•  " 
analyze  the  prevalent  and  socially  conditioned  experience-activ-     . 
ities  which  constitute  the  social  life  of  different  peoples;  (2) 
to  classify  these  social  activities  according  to  their  specific  **.* 
types  or  varieties;  (3)  to  compare  the  different  but  homolo- 
gous varieties  of  experience-activity  characteristic  of  different   /> 
peoples,  different  social  classes,  and  different  epochs  (as  com-  ' 
parative  anatomy  compares  homologous  but  different  biological 
structures)  in  order  (4)  to  study  their  causation  and  evolu-     - 
tion,  by  noting  not  only  differences  and  resemblances  between  **  *• 
social  activities,  but  also  differences  and  resemblances  between  ^i. 
the  internal  and  external  conditions  out  of  which  they  arise, 
so  as  to  discover  the  correspondence  which  exists  between 
changes  in  conditions  and  changes  in  the  resulting  social  activ- 
ities, and  thus  to  identify  those  tendencies,  or  methods  in 
causation,  which  if  stated  with  sufficient  precision  are  scien- 
tific laws;  and  also  (5)  to  evaluate  the  social  activities  accord-      * 
ing  to  their  quality  as  experiences,  and  according  to  the  effects   \b 
which  they  are  observed  to  have  upon  further  social  activities. 
The  phenomena  to  be  described,  evaluated  and  accounted  ^-°T 
are,   throughout,    prevalent    socially   conditioned    experience- 
activities. 

The  word  "tendency"  is  preferable  to  the  word  "law." 
Simmel,  author  of  "Philosophic  des  Geldes,"  says  he  knows  of 
no  economic  law,  and  the  claims  for  sociology  must  be  at  least 
as  modest  in  this  respect  as  those  of  economics.  Even  in  biology 


346  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

there  is  hardly  a  law  that  can  be  stated  with  the  mathematical 
definiteness  of  the  laws  of  inorganic  phenomena.  But  knowl- 
edge of  a  tendency  may  be  of  the  greatest  scientific  and  practi- 
cal importance.  For  example,  it  is  not  necessary  to  know  the 
number  of  typhoid  bacilli  in  a  given  well,  nor  the  mathematical 
relation  between  the  number  of  ingested  bacilli  and  of  leu- 
cocytes that  is  the  threshold  between  immunity  and  liability  to 
disease;  nor  even  to  suppose  that  there  is  a  fixed  relation  be- 
tween them  that  can  be  so  regarded ;  it  is  of  incalculable  value 
merely  to  have  identified  the  microbe  and  the  medium  by  which 
it  is  borne.  Without  that  knowledge  men  rely  upon  nostrums 
and  die ;  with  it  they  close  the  well  and  live.  The  like  is  true 
of  tendencies  that  result  in  the  prevalence  or  decline  of  good 
and  evil  forms  of  social  activity.  Between  that  knowledge 
which  is  so  complete  that  we  can  reduce  it  to  mathematical 
expression,  and  metaphysics  at  the  other  end  of  the  scale,  lies 
the  vast  body  of  our  knowledge,  including  nearly  all  of  our 
knowledge  about  life,  vegetable,  animal  or  social,  which  largely 
guides  our  practical  conduct  and  the  extension  of  which, 
though  we  never  reduce  it  to  quantitative  expression,  is  of  im- 
measurable concern. 

^imilarly  the  practical  problem  of  applied  sociology  is 
to  secure  the  prevalence  of  the  jlesjred  experience-activities. 
There  is  no  other  kind  of  realities  in  the  direct  causation  of 
which  the  study  of  sociology  can  make  men  expert.  There 
is  no  other  kind  of  reality  upon  the  improvement  of  which 
the  progress  of  social  welfare  from  this  time  on  so  directly 
and  so  preponderantly  depends.  As  already  observed,  we 
have  measurably  solved  the  problems  of  production  in  agri- 
culture, transportation,  and  manufacture;  we  have  developed 
architecture  and  sanitary  engineering,  but  in  order  that  the 
millions  may  be  sufficiently  well  fed  and  clothed  and  housed,  to 
say  nothing  of  their  enjoyment  of  higher  goods  of  life,  it  is 
necessary  that  we  now  proceed  to  secure  the  prevalence  of 
right  methods  of  cooperative  endeavor,  right  standards  of  suc- 
cess and  objects  of  ambition,  right  pressures  of  social  con- 
demnation and  of  .social  approval.  We  can  manipulate  ma- 
terial things,  we  must  now  learn,  in  so  far  as  we  can,  to  modify 


THE  NATURE  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  SOCIETY        347 

the  facts  of  conscious  life  as  they  prevail  in  society.  They 
are  highly  modifiable,  no  other  realities  more  so.  However, 
they  are  not  dead  and  inert,  but  living ;  they  cannot  be  shaped 
by  force  like  wood  and  iron,  but  modified  as  the  stock- 
breeder modifies  his  charges  or  as  the  husbandman  transforms 
a  field  of  weeds  into  a  garden. 

The  Sociophysical  Phenomena. — When  one  rises  in  the 
morning  and  looks  out  of  the  window  he  can  see  houses, 
streets,  and  passing  vehicles,  but  he  cannot  see  the  admiration 
of  wealth  as  a  standard  of  success,  the  taste  for  ragtime 
music,  or  for  automobiles,  or  the  anti-trust  movement,  or  the 
Bull  Moose  movement,  or  patriotism,  or  the  jury  system,  or 
Methodism,  yet  they  are  out  there,  and  they  together  with 
other  realities  equally  invisible  make  up  the  social  life  of  the 
American  people.  If  one  reads  the  newspapers,  listens  to  the 
talk  at  the  club  and  in  the  offices,  attends  the  concert  halls, 
examines  the  shop-windows  and  the  attire  and  conduct  of  the 
throng  in  the  street,  and  is  present  at  political  rallies,  he  will 
see  and  hear  in  the  speech  and  writing  and  conduct  of  people 
and  in  the  things  they  buy  and  use  continual  manifestations 
of  their  ideas  and  tastes  and  ambitions.  These  material 
acts  and  things  manifest  the  invisible  psychic  activities  that 
make  up  their  life.* 

Physical  manifestations  of  social  activity  are  the  sociophysi- 
cal  phenomena. -?The  psychologist  calls  the  speech  and  other 
overt  actions  of  an  individual  "psychophysical  phenomena"; 
now  a  muscular  activity  or  material  product  which  expresses 
some  activity  which  is  not  peculiar  to  a  single  individual  but 
which  is  a  social  activity,  may  be  called  a  sociophysical  phenom- 
enon. This  does  not  correspond  exactly  to  the  psychologist's  use 
of  the  word  psychophysical,  for  he  uses  that  word  to  include  the 
functioning  of  the  nervous  system  which  in  a  sense  lies  behind 
the  conscious  act,  as  well  as  to  denote  the  muscular  deed 
which  expresses  or  manifests  the  conscious  act,  while  our 
word  sociophysical  includes  no  reference  to  the  functioning 
of  the  nervous  system,  which  we  leave  to  the  psychologist, 
but  only  to  the  outward  manifestation,  that  is,  the  muscular 
deeds,  and  the  products  of  muscular  deeds,  which  are  the 


348  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

overt  expression  of  social  activities.  The  psychologist's  word 
psychophysical  may  be  symbolized  by  n  c  o,  in  which  n  =  neu- 
rosis, c  =  the  accompanying  state  of  consciousness,  and  o  = 
resulting  overt  act.  To  symbolize  the  sociologist's  word  socio- 
physical  we  strike  out  the  n  and  the  c  and  add  t  thus  getting 
o  t,  in  which  o  —  the  overt  activity  and  t  =  the  thing,  if  any, 
which  that  activity  produces. 

For  example,  roads  and  cities  and  libraries  are  sociophys- 
ical  phenomena.  In  a  great  ethnological  museum  we  can  see 
here  a  section  devoted  to  the  weapons,  tools,  playthings,  re- 
ligious and  ceremonial  paraphernalia  of  the  Zulus;  there  an- 
other section  devoted  to  a  similar  exhibit  from  the  Esquimaux. 
Passing  from  section  to  section  we  see  material  embodiments 
and  manifestations  of  the  social  activities  of  one  people  after 
another.  A  total  stranger  to  the  activities  of  these  people 
would  need  someone  to  interpret  and  would  often  say,  "What 
does  that  object  mean?'-'  Perhaps  the  answer  in  one  case 
would  be,  "That  is  a  rattle  used  in  the  rain-making  ceremony, 
and  means  that  a  people  believed  that  their  magicians  could 
cause  it  to  rain  by  rites  and  incantations."  One  must  already 
be  somewhat  acquainted  with  the  activities  of  people  in 
their  stage  of  development  in  order  to  understand  the  reve- 
lation made  by  their  material  products,  just  as  one  must  know 
its  language  in  order  to  read  a  book ;  but  a  book  and  an  ethno- 
logical exhibit  are  equally  material  revelations  of  psychic  activ- 
ity. A  World's  Fair  tells  us  more  than  many  volumes  of 
description  about  the  activities  of  our  fellowmen.  If  there 
could  have  been. such  a  thing  as  a  World's  Fair  held  in  the 
second  century  and  its  exhibits  had  been  preserved  to  us 
how  it  would  have  enlightened  us  concerning  the  social  activ- 
ities of  that  age! 

Social  activities  as  we  have  seen  are  psychic  phenomena. 
These  psychic  phenomena  are  the  ultimate  realities  which 
sociology  is  to  describe  and  explain.  But  the  sociophysical 
phenomena  are  the  immediate  consequences  of  the  social  ac- 
tivities; they  reveal  the  presence  and  the  nature  of  those 
activities  and  render  them  accessible  to  scientific  observation. 
The  in-and-out  of  conscious  life  is  revealed  in  the  material 

^^fr^JL****^^ 


THE  NATURE  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  SOCIETY         341, 

results  of  its  motor  outgo.  Furthermore,  these  material  con- 
sequences are  explained  only  by  explaining  the  psychic  activi- 
ties which  lie  back  of  them,  as  the  rattle  was  explained  by 
explaining  the  rain-making  belief,  and  as  the  Roman  Coliseum 
is  explained  by  explaining  the  amusement  customs  of  the 
Romans. 

Spoken  and  written  language,  pictures,  mechanical  prod- 
ucts, houses,  and  railroads  stand  intermediate  between  mere 
material  things  like  unopened  mines,  untrodden  forests,  rivers, 
and  woods,  .on  the  one  hand,  and  the  psychic  activities  of 
men  on  the  other,  for  they  are  material  things  as  are  the 
rivers  and  the  woods  but  they  give  expression  to  the  activities 
of  men. 

The  material  works  of  man  jiave  significance  for  sociology 
in_  twcTwavjT:  nfst,  irTthe  same  way  and  for  the  same  reasons 
that  the  works  of  nature  have  significance  for  him,  that  is, 
aspart  of  the  physical  environment  wJbich  cDrjdjtip_ng_the 
progress  of  human  activitieV;  second,  since  they  have  forms 
and  characters  imparted  to  them  by  the  activities  of  man, 
they  reveal  the  activities  of  man  which  sociology  seeks  to 
explain  and  are  themselves  Explained  by  the  explanation  of  _ 
these  activities.  The  life  of  society  is  made  up  of  prevalent  > 
and  socially  conditioned  experience-activities,  which  are  re- 
vealed and  bodied  forth  in  the  sociophysical  phenomena.  The  *& 
experience-activities  could  not  become  known  to  any  observer 
if  they  were  not  thus  bodied  forth  in  speech,  writing,  tools, 
weapons,  clothes,  buildings,  and  the  other  material  works  that 
express  the  activities  prevalent  in  society.  DeGreef  says  that 
these  material  expressions  of  social  activity  are  as  much  a  part 
of  society  as  the  shell  is  part  of  the  turtle.  The  psychologists 
say  that  the  individual's  thought  of  himself  commonly  in- 
cludes the  idea  of  his  clothes  and  his  work  and  that  the  lady 
feels  herself  assaulted  when  her  dress  is  torn  and  the  mechanic 
feels  himself  harmed  when  his  work  is  damaged.  The  socio- 
physical phenomena  are  a  part  of  the  life  of  society  only 
in  the  same  sense  that  the  product  of  the  mechanic's  skill  is  a 
part  of  his  life. 

We  must  not  lose  sight  of  the  fact  that  in  their  essence 


\ff 


350  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

social   phenomena   are   spiritual    realities.      Streets   of    sky- 
scrapers, factories  crowded  with  machinery,  libraries  of  books, 
crowded  city  populations,  legislative  assemblies,  might  all  be 
wiped  out  of  existence  but  if.  there  remained  in  the  minds 
of  the  survivors  all  those  ideas  and  sentiments  of  which  these 
material  realities  are  the  expression,  the  life  of  society,  ham- 
pered  for  lack  of  tools,  but  undestroyed,  would  soon  replace 
them.    But  should  the  spiritual  wealth  of  the  world  developed 
through  the  age-long  cooperation  of  many  minds,  be  wiped  out 
of  existence  and  man  be  set  back  naked-souled  at%the  starting- 
point  of  social  evolution,  he  could  not  read  a  book,  nor  run  a 
factory  nor  understand  the  wants  to  which  all  these  things 
minister.    The  social  realities  would  then  have  been  destroyed. 
/"     The  social  phenomena  are  psychic,  but  not  all  psychic  phe- 
/   nomena  are   social   phenomena.     Those  psychic  phenomena 
V  which  are  social  are  distinguished  by  three  clear  character- 
istics. 

The  First  Characteristic  of  Social  Activities.  —  The  first 
characteristic  of  social  activities  is  that  they  are  prevalent. 
A  social  activity  is  not  the  unique  possession  of  any  single 
mind.  Methodism,  for  example,  is  not  the  peculiar  property 
of  any  single  Methodist  but  it  is  a  definite  set  of  activities 
(beliefs,  sentiments  and  practices)  which  are  common  to 
many  minds.  Or,  the  Republicanism  of  any  one  Republican  is 
like  the  Republicanism  of  thousands  more.  A  belief  in  the 
desirability  of  free  and  unlimited  coinage  of  silver  dollars  at 
the  ratio  of  sixteen  to  one  a  few  years  ago  became  a  signifi- 
cant social  phenomenon  widely  prevalent,  that  is,  common  to 
multitudes  of  minds.  Long  ago  the  belief  in  witchcraft  and 
insistence  upon  the  punishment  of  witches  came  over  New 
England  like  a  visitation  of  locusts.  Every  fashion,  custom, 
or  institution,  every  prevalent  sentiment,  belief,  or  moral 
standard  is  a  social  reality  partly  by  virtue  of  the  fact  that 
the  same  activity  exists  in  many  minds. 

To  this  it  may  be  objected  that  the  activities  of  no  two 
individuals  are  ever  precisely  alike,  that  the  Methodism  or 
the  Republicanism  of  no  two  individuals  is  identical.  This  is 
probably  true.  It  is  also  said  that  no  two  leaves  in  all  June 


351 

are  quite  alike.  The  botanist  who  collects  different  specimens 
of  the  same  variety  never  finds  two  specimens  that  are  iden- 
tical. This,  however,  does  not  prevent  the  existence  of  botany 
nor  the  identification  of  botanical  varieties;  no  more  does  the 
variation  between  specimens  of  a  given  social  activity  pre- 
vent them  from  being  recognized  as  belonging  to  the  same 
sociological  species.  Your  Methodism,  or  other  experience- 
activity,  is  one  specimen  of  a  prevalent  variety  of  social  phe- 
nomena, just  as  one  daisy  is  a  specimen  of  a  prevalent  botan- 
ical variety. 

The  Second  Characteristic  of  Social  Activities. — Social  ac- 
tivities are  manifested  by  sociophysical  embodiment  in  speech, 
writing,  conduct,  or  works.  Logicians  call  any  phenomena 
"public"  which,  although  they  may  be  observed  by  no  one  or  by 
only  a  few,  yet  are  of  such  a  kind  that  they  can  be  known 
by  any  competent  observer  who  may  pass  that  way.  In  this 
sense  the  "flower  born  to  blush  unseen"  is  public  for  it  is  a 
reality  of  such  a  kind  that  it  can  be  observed.  They  add  that 
only  those  objects  which  are  public  in  this  sense  are  open 
to  scientific  investigation.  Social  phenomena,  being  imma- 
terial or  psychic  realities,  are  not  open  to  direct  observation. 
The  consciousness  of  each  individual  is  known  directly  to 
him  alone.  But  psychic  realities  have  physical  consequences 
so  direct  and  so  manifold  and  so  exquisitely  adapted  to  dis- 
close the  character  of  the  psychic  realities  themselves,  that 
prevalent  psychic  realities  manifest  their  presence,  character, 
extent,  and  changes  in  a  way  that  makes  possible  their  de- 
scription and  explanation.  This  would  not  be  true,  in  a  degree 
that  is  adequate  to  the  purposes  of  science,  if  each  of  us  did 
not  have  in  his  own  consciousness  a  fine  collection  of  speci- 
mens of  the  very  same  kind  of  psychic  realities.  It  is  true 
not  every  specimen  of  a  social  reality  is  manifested.  John 
may  have  a  social  idea  or  sentiment  which  he  never  reveals 
to  anyone,  although  the  social  reality  of  which  John's  idea 
or  sentiment  is  a  specimen  is  well  known.  It  is  also  true  that 
many  a  botanical  specimen  is  never  seen  by  man  though  its 
species  is  known.  Of  course  our  knowledge  might  be  com- 
pleter  if  we  could  examine  every  specimen  or  at  least  knew 


352  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

their  number.  But  we  do  not  know  the  number  of  oaks  or 
pine-trees,  to  say  nothing  of  buttercups,  or  grass,  or  microbes, 
and  need  not  observe  or  even  know  the  existence  of  every 
instance  of  social  activity.  An  activity  which  occurred  in 
the  experience  of  but  one  individual  would  lack  the  first  char- 
acteristic of  being  a  social  reality;  it  would  not  be  prevalent. 
An  activity  which  though  it  recurred  many  times  was  so  per- 
fectly concealed  that  no  one  could  suspect  its  existence  in  the 
experience  of  anyone  besides  himself  would  lack  the  second 
characteristic  of  a  social  reality.  It  would  not  be  manifest. 

There  has  been  a  little  objection  to  regarding  sociology 
as  an  objective  science  on  the  ground  that  social  realities,  being 
psychic  in  nature,  are  not  observable,  or  "public"  in  the  logi- 
cian's sense.  But  this  objection  never  received  much  heed 
and  appears  to  have  died  out.1  Our  whole  social  life  is  built 
upon  the  fact  that  we  do  become  aware  of  the  activities,  opin- 
ions, and  sentiments  of  our  associates.  In  this  way  social 
activities  constitute  our  effective  environment.  The  social  ac- 
tivities which  we  observe  about  us  mold  our  childhood  and 
elicit  and  direct  the  endeavors  of  our  mature  life  in  general 
far  more  effectively  than  even  the  material  realities  by  which 
we  are  surrounded.  They  constitute  an  ever-present,  alluring, 
intimidating,  and  tremendous  environment.  Not  only  do  our 
associates  take  pains  tc  show  many  specimens  of  their  social 
activity,  but  even  when  they  try  to  conceal  them  they  do  not 
always  succeed  in  doing  so.  And  they  testify '  continually, 
by  accepting  our  replies  and  responses,  that  we  have  correctly 
apprehended  their  states  of  consciousness. 

The  Third  Characteristic  of  Social  Activities. — The  third 
characteristic  of  social  activities  is  that  they  are  the  result 
of  antecedent  social  activities.  They  are  socially  caused.  Let 
the  reader  pause  to  see  whether  he  can  think  of  one  single 
activity  of  his  which  he  performs,  one  belief  which  he  holds, 
one  definite  desire,  ambition,  or  judgment  which  he  cherishes, 
aside  from  the  mere  functioning  of  his  animal  organism,  which 
would  have  been  his  if  he  had  been  the  first  man  or  if  he^had 

1  See  article  by  present  writer  in  American  Journal  of  Sociology, 
xi,  623. 


THE  NATURE  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  SOCIETY         353 

lived  in  such  isolation  as  to  be  unaware  of  the  antecedent 
activity  of  any  associate.  He  would  have  eaten  but  not  with 
knife,  fork,  and  spoon,  not  from  dishes,  and  not  the  cooked 
viands  of  which  he  now  partakes.  He  would  have  performed 
the  physical  functions;  he  would  have  slept  and  yawned  and 
sneezed,  but  beyond  the  functioning  of  his  physical  organism 
scarcely  one  element  in  the  current  of  activity  which  now  con- 
stitutes his  "life"  would  have  been  possible  to  him.  He  would 
have  ideas  but  scarcely  any  idea  that  he  now  holds  save 
merely  the  presentations  of  sense  perception  which  he  has  in 
common  with  the  animals.  One's  life  is  not  his  own,  but  is 
his  share  in  the  inheritance  which  comes  down  from  a  long 
social  past,  in  turn  to  be  transmitted,  improved  or  degraded,  to 
his  successors.  Each*  social  activity  is  not  only  prevalent  and 
public,  but  it  is  also  made  possible  to  each  of  those  among 
whom  it  prevails  by  an  antecedent  social  evolution;  it  is 
socially  caused. 

An  apparent  exception  to  the  last  statement  is  the  original 
idea  or  sentiment,  and  if  it  were  necessary  we. could  afford 
to  modify  that  statement  so  as  to  say  that  each  prevalent 
activity  is  socially  caused  in  the  case  of  each  individual  who 
performs  it  except  its  originator.  Even  with  that  modification 
it  would  remain  true  that  the  activity  does  not  begin  to  be  a 
prevalent,  that  is,  a  social  activity,  except  by  the  agency  of 
social  causation.  But  we  scarcely  need  make  even  that  modi- 
fication, for  in  the  mind  of  its  originator  the  new  idea  or 
sentiment  as  a  rule  is  simply  the  last  step  in  the  path  of 
thought  along  which  evolution  has  been  moving,  or  a  reac- 
tion upon  a  social  situation,  so  that  generally  speaking  the 
new  activity  is  as  truly  socially  caused  in  the  mind  in  which 
it  first  arises  as  is  its  subsequent  adoption  in  the  minds  of 
others.  The  inventor  adds  a  new  element  to  that  which  the 
social  process  brought  him,  but  only  by  what  the  social  process 
brought  him  was  his  new  contribution  made  possible.  The 
most  primitive  inventions  of  savages  may  have  been  purely 
individual  reactions  of  one  mind  upon  the  natural  physical 
environment,  but  such  an  invention  at  our  stage  of  develop- 
ment would  be  of  the  utmost  rarity.  .  The  very  wants  t9 


354  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

which  inventions  minister  are  for  the  most  part  social  reali- 
ties. The  third  characteristic  of  social  activities  then,  is  that 
their  prevalence  is  socially  caused;  that  is,  it  requires  the 
previous  activities  of  associates  to  make  a  social  activity  pos- 
sible to  any  of  those  among  whom  it  prevails,  except  perhaps 
its  originator,  and  even  to  him  also,  as  a  rule  with  negligible 
exceptions,  it  would  have  been  impossible  but  for  the  previous 
activities  of  others. 

Relation  Between  Sociology  and  Psychology.1 — The  fore- 
going recognition  of  the  psychic  character  of  the  elements  of 
which  social  realities  are  composed  creates  the  necessity  of 
stating  what  is  the  relation  between  sociology  and  psychology. 

The  relation  between  sociology  and  psychology  may  be 
compared  to  that  between  biology  and  chemistry.  We  have 
already  seen  that  as  all  biological  specimens  are  made  up  of 
chemical  elements,  and  all  biological  life  of  chemicophysical 
action  and  reaction,  so  all  social  realities  are  made  up  of 
psychic  elements,  and  the  life  of  any  society  is  composed  of 
psychic  activities.  The  difference  between  sociology  and  psy- 
chology can  be  brought  out  under  two  heads: 

1.  Notwithstanding  what  ultimate  analysis  would  reveal 
as  to  the  elements  of  which  they  are  composed,  we  do  not 
think  of  plants  and  animals  as  chemical  phenomena  or  of 
social  realities,  like  a  language,  a  religion,  or  a  political  sys- 
tem as  psychological  phenomena.    The  truth  is  that  the  con- 
crete compounds  into  which  chemical   or  psychic   elements 
combine  differ  enormously  from  the  elements  as  such.    Biology 
and  sociology  study  not  elements  in  their  abstractness,  but 
highly  complex  compounds  in  their  concreteness.     Psychology 
studies  certain  elemental  abstractions  from  life,  a  knowledge 
of  which  is  essential  to  the  understanding  of  life,  but  which 
remain  abstractions.     Sociology  studies  life  itself. 

2.  As  the  chemical  elements  of  living  tissue  as  well  as 
the  processes  of  physiological  chemistry  are  everywhere  prac- 
tically the  same,  yet  flora  and  fauna  vary  from  place  to  place, 
so  also  psychic  phenomena :  perception,  memory,  feeling,  atten- 

*A  fuller  discussion  of  this  topic  by  the  present  writer  may  be 
found  in  the  American  Journal  of  Sociology,  xiv,  371. 


THE  NATURE  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  SOCIETY         355 

tion,  etc.,  the  abstract  elements  of  life,  as  well  as  the  processes 
of  neurocerebral  functioning,  are  the  same  in  the  twentieth  cen- 
tury as  in  the  seventeenth,  and  the  same  in  Boston  as  in  Bom- 
bay, but  social  phenomena  vary  enormously  from  age  to  age 
and  from  place  to  place,  as  flora  and  fauna  do.  This  gives  to 
sociology  problems  of  quite  different  sort  from  those  of  psy- 
chology, the  problems  of  describing  and  explaining  these 
different  and  changing  realities.  One  way  to  state  the  scope 
of  sociology  would  be  to  say  that  sociology  aims  to  describe 
the  differences  between  the  activities  of  different  groups  and 
individuals,  to  discover  the  methods  of  causation  by  which 
these  differences  can  be  accounted  for,  to  evaluate  these  dif- 
ferences, and  to  point  out  how  those  differences  which,  accord- ) 
ing  to  the  adopted  standard,  are  desirable,  can  be  promoted,  1 
and  how  those  which  are  undesirable  can  be  diminished.  This  L^, 
involves  investigation  .which  combines  into  a  synthesis  of 
explanation,  effects  upon  human  activity  of  the  differing  geo- 
graphic conditions  of  different  countries,  of  the  differing  psy- 
chophysical  conditions,  hereditary  or  acquired,  pertaining  to 
different  populations  and  different  social  classes,  and  of  the 
differing  technic  conditions  of  different  peoples  and  ages, 
objects  of  investigation  with  which  the  researches  of  psy- 
chology have  little  or  nothing  to  do.  It  involves  also  the 
ethical  problems,  which  psychology  does  not  handle.  Finally 
it  involves  the  problem  of  causal  relationship  between  social 
activities,  in  which  there  is  an  overlapping  between  psychology 
and  sociology  analogous  to  that  between  chemistry  and 
biology. 

There  are  no  gulfs  nor  even  line  fences  between  the  sci- 
ences, because  there  are  none  in  the  order  of  nature  which 
science  investigates.  The  nearest  approximation  to  such  a 
line  is  between  material  phenomena  and  the  facts  of  conscious 
experience.  On  each  side  of  that  more  or  less  imaginary  line 
lies  a  group  of  sciences.  One  of  these  groups  of  sciences 
contains  physics,  chemistry,  biology,  etc.,  which  deal  with 
material  phenomena.  These  sciences  are  clearly  different 
from  each  other  and  their  centers  of  interest  are  quite  wide 
apart,  but  at  their  boundaries  they  shade  into  each  other  so 


356  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

that  there  are,  for  example,  certain  problems  that  might  with 
equal  propriety  be  assigned  either  to  chemistry  or  to  physics, 
and  others  that  might  with  equal  propriety  be  assigned  either 
to  chemistry  or  to  physiology.  On  the  other  side  of  that  line 
are  the  sciences  that  deal  with  conscious  life  of  which  the 
fundamental  ones  are  psychology  and  sociology.  These  also 
are  clearly  distinct  and  have  their  centers  of  interest  apart, 
but  like  the  sciences  that  deal  with  material  phenomena  they 
shade  into  each  other  at  the  boundaries.  On  the  practical  side 
sociology  is  related  to  economics,  politics  and  education,  but 
on  the  theoretical  side  the  closest  kinship  of  sociology  is  with 
psychology  and  philosophy ;  with  psychology  because  it  carries 
forward  the  application  of  psychological  principles  as  an  essen- 
tial part  of  the  completely  synthesized  explanation  of  human 
life;  with  philosophy  because  the  best  approach  to  the  most 
inclusive  inductive  synthesis  is  the  explanation  of  tho'se  phe- 
nomena .which  have  the  most  complex  causation,  namely  the 
social  phenomena,  and  also  because  sociology  includes  the 
transfer  of  ethics  from  the  realm  of  metaphysical  speculation 
to  inductive  investigation  of  the  rise  and  spread  of  valuations, 
and  of  the  conditions  which  actually  promote  or  destroy 
values. 


CHAPTER   XX 

THE   ANALYSIS    AND    CLASSIFICATION    OF   SOCIAL 
ACTIVITIES  i 

Tarde,  Giddings,  DeGreef  and  Small. — According  to  Tarde 
the  social  life  is  entirely  made  up  of  two  kinds  of  elements; 
namely,  beliefs  and  desires.  He  uses  these  two  words  in  a 
somewhat  peculiar  sense.  His  word  beliefs  does  not  refer 
alone  to  religious  tenets,  political  creeds,  and  the  like,  but  to 
all  of  the  ideas  which  are  held  in  common  by  the  members  of 
a  society.  Thus  according  to  Tarde's  formula  the  vocabu- 
lary and  grammar  of  a  language  are  sets  of  beliefs  as  to  the 
way  in  which  to  express  one's  self,  and  the  methods  of  the 
carpenter  in  making  joints  and  the  cobbler  in  lasting  shoes, 
are  beliefs  as  to  the  way  in  which  to  accomplish  the  desired 
results. 

To  recall  the  mode  of  expression  used  in  an  earlier  para- 
graph, by  "beliefs"  he  means  the  entire  psychological  income 
of  society  while  by  "desires"  he  means  the  psychological  outgo, 
as  it  is  felt  by  the  individual  experiencing  it.  The  phase  of 
the  psychological  outgo  which  is  witnessed  by  the  bystanders 
is,  of  course,  that  which  goes  to  move  the  muscles  in  speech 
and  conduct  but  the  phase  of  it  which  is  felt  by  the  actors  is 
represented  by  desire.  The  psychic  outgo  is  like  a  shield,  one 
side  of  which  is  presented  to  the  world — the  other  side  of 
which  rests  against  our  hearts.  Tarde  names  it  from  the 
inside  and  so  calls  it  "desire." 

According  to  Tarde  simple  social  activities  (beliefs  and 
desires)  unite  to  form  compound  social  activities,  such  as 
customs  and  institutions.  These  massive  social  realities  are  of 
six  kinds  as  follows : 

1  Compare  an  article  by  the  present  writer  in  the  American  Jow~ 
nal  of  Sociology,  xvii,  p.  90. 

357 


358  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 


I  Language  - 

II  Religion  *" 

III  Government*-^ 

IV  Legislation  ^ 

^      V  Economic  Usages  and  Wants*-" 

VI  Morals  and  Arts  x  ^ 

ProfessorGiddings^  designates  the  simple  social  activities 
by  the  words  ^hou^ht"  and  "action"  instead  of  Tarde's  words 
"belief"  and  "desire."  "Thought"  instead  of  "belief"  is  his 
designation  of  the  income  half  of  social  activity;  and  as  he 
names  the  social  outgo  from  the  external  side  of  the  shield  he 
uses  the  word  "action"  instead  of  Tarde's  word  "desire." 
Professor  Giddings'  classification  is  as  follows: 

I     Cultural 

1.  Cultural  Thought    (or  "income,"   correspond- 

ing to  Tarde's  "beliefs") 

a.  Linguistic 

b.  Esthetic 

c.  Religious 

d.  Scientific 

2.  Cultural  Activity  (or  "outgo,"  corresponding  to 

Tarde's  "desire") 

a.  Ceremonial :   of  manners,  dress,  and  fes- 

tivities 

b.  Games  and  amusements 

c.  Fine  arts 

d.  Religious  exercises 

e.  Exploration  and  research 

II     Economic  ' 

1.  Economic  thought 

2.  Economic  activity 

III     Moral  and  juristic 

i.     Moral   and    juristic   thought,    including   ideas 
of  private  revenge,  notions  of  rights  of 

1  Exercise :  Enumerate  the  "beliefs"  and  "desirgs"  included  in  the 
composition  of  Methodism  and  Republicanism, 


ANALYSIS  OF  SOCIAL  ACTIVITIES  359 

property  and  of  marriage,  belief  in  the 
sacredness  and  binding  force  of  cus- 
tom, ideas  as  to  methods  of  trial,  duties 
of  judges,  etc. 

2.  Moral  and  juristic  activity,  such  as  approba- 
tion and  disapprobation,  private  re- 
venge, lynching,  and  tribal  trial  and 
execution,  and  the  work  of  formal 
courts. 
IV  Political 

1.  Political  thought  upon  matters  of  policy  and 

method 

2.  Political  activity 

According  to  DeGreef  the  classification  of  social  activities, 
proceeding  from  the  most  fundamental  and  universal  to  the 
most  ultimate  and  controlling,  should  be : 

I  Economic 

II  Genetic,  relating  to  love,  marriage  and  the  family 

III  Artistic 

IV  Beliefs  :  religions,  metaphysics  and  sciences 

V  Morals  and  manners 

VI  Juridical 

VII     Political 

\ 

Professor  Small  offers  a  suggestive  basis  for  classification 
in  his  doctrine  of  the  six  interests.  The  attempt  may  be 
made  to  classify  social  activities  according  to  the  interest 
they  serve.  The  interests  which  Professor  Small  describes 
are: 

I     The  health  interest,  meaning  that  which  prompts  all 

seeking  of  bodily  gratifications 
II     The  wealth  interest 

III  The  knowledge  interest 

IV  The  beauty  interest 

V     The  sociability  interest,  including  all  the  desires  which 

are  met  by  relations  with  our  fellows 
VI     The  Tightness  interest. 


360  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

A  Further  Classification. — The  foregoing  sketch  of  the 
classifications  of  Tarde  and  Giddings,  together  with  that  which 
has  been  said  concerning  the  "in-and-out"  of  conscious  life, 
illustrates  how  different  observers  studying  the  same  reality 
arrive  at  similar  results,  differing  in  terminology  enough  to 
show  that  they  have  worked  independently,  yet  agreeing  so 
far  as  to  corroborate  each  other.  It  also  illustrates  how  by 
combining  the  results  of  independent  workers,  nearer  and 
nearer  approach  to  a  complete  view  of  reality  may  be  pro- 
moted. In  dealing  with  the  massive  compound  social  realities, 
like  customs  and  institutions,  it  will  be  convenient  to  use  a 
fourfold  or  sixfold  or'  even  sevenfold  classification,  like  those 
just  quoted.  At  the  same  time,  for  purposes  of  scientific 
investigation,  we  must  also  come  at  the  matter  more  analyti- 
cally, from  the  side  of  the  simpler  social  realities.  The  first 
half  of  scientific  investigation,  as  Wundt  teaches,  is  adequate 
analysis.  The  most  fundamental  division  between  those  sim- 
pler and  more  elementary  social  activities  which  are  revealed 
by  ultimate  analysis  is  between  activities  in  which  the  elements 
of  psychic  income  predominate  and  activities  in  which  the 
elements  of  psychic  outgo  predominate.  But  since  the  outgo 
is  of  two  sorts,  motor  and  emotional,  it  is  possible  to  intro- 
duce another  division,  and  so  to  recognize  all  the  facts  that 
have  influenced  either  Tarde  or  Giddings.  Thus  we  have: 
(i)  the  social  activities  that  are  composed  predominantly  of 
elements  of  psychic  income,  the  "thoughts"  of  Giddings  and 
the  "beliefs"  of  Tarde;  (2)  those  in  which  emotional  outgo 
predominates,  the  "desires"  of  Tarde;  (3)  those  in  which 


s  motor  outgo  predominates,  the  "activities"  of  Giddings.  It  is 
thus  that  we  shall  now  attempt  to  classify  the  social  activities 
as  first,  the  sciences  and  creeds,  the  "thoughts"  and  "beliefs," 
the  intellectual  income  of  society;  second,'  social  seiitimcntf. 
or  more  accurately  the  social  activities  in  which  feeling  or 
emotional  outgo  predominates ;  and  third,  social  practices,  the 
arts  of  life,  the  objective  outgo,  the  application  of  the  first, 
that  is,  of  the  ideas  included  in  the  sciences  and  creeds  to 
the  satisfaction  of  the  demands  of  the  second,  that  is,  of  the 
desires.  This  form  of  statement  brings  out  the  fact  that  there 


ANALYSIS  OF  SOCIAL  ACTIVITIES  361 

is  a  certain  general  correspondence  between  sociological  classi- 
fication and  the  psychological  analysis,  but  the  correspondence 
is  only  rough  and  general,  and  not  precise.  Psychological 
analysis  and  sociological  analysis  cannot  be  made  precisely^ 
^to  correspond^ecause  even  simple  and  elementary  social  activ 
ities  are  not  psychological  abstractions,  but  from  the  psycholo- 
gist's point  of  view  are  concrete  and  composite,  for  they  are 
not  composed  exclusively  of  any  one  kind  of  psychic  elements. 
Thought,  feeling,  and  volition  are  abstractions  which  can  be 
thought  of  apart  but  which  hardly  ever  exist  apart  from 
each  other.  Sociology  studies  concrete  activities  as  they  really 
exist,  and  so  more  than  one  kind  of  psychological  element  is 
pretty  certain  to  be  present  in  a  single  prevalent  social  activity 
of  the  simplest  kind,  just  as  more  than  one  chemical  element 
is  present  in  a  speck  of  protoplasm.  Thus  every  "social  senti- 
ment" implies  and  includes  the  presence  of  an  idea,  and  all 
"social  practices"  imply  and  give  expression  to  ideas  and  sen- 
timents. It  is  the  predominance  of  feeling  or  of  overt  action 
over  the  other  psychic  elements  contained  in  a  social  activity 
that  causes  it  to  be  classified  as  a  sentiment  or  as  a  practice. 

If  there  were  coincidence  between  psychological  and  socio- 
logical elements  then  possibly  instead  of  proposing  a  tripartite 
classification  we  might  adhere  to  the  twofold  division  between, 
first,  the  income  of  sensations,  perceptions,  memories  of  the 
same,  and  their  derivatives  and  combinations  which  compose 
the  intellectual  life ;  and  second,  the  outgo  which  is  witnessed 
by  observers  as  muscular  activity,  but  is  experienced  by  the 
actors  as  feeling,  emotion,  desire,  and  satisfaction.  As  it 
is  we  see  that  even  the  simpler  social  activities  are  of  three 
classes :  practical  arts  which  are  compounds  of  ideas  and 
their  motor-emotional  outgo;  tastes,  distastes,  approvals,  and 
disapprovals  which  are  compounds  of  desires  and  ideas,  in 
which  the  desires  predominate ;  and  sciences  and  creeds  which 
are  the  social  activities  that  come  nearest  to  being  composed 
of  one  variety  of  psychological  elements. 

When  we  take  as  units  the  very  great  and  complex  social 
realities  like  Methodism,  Republicanism,  and  the  courts,  it  is 
impossible  to  fit  them  into  even  a  tripartite  classification,  •  for 


362  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

each  one  of  them  is  itself  a  whole  bundle  of  social  activities. 
For  these  massive  social  realities  we  employ  a  fourfold  clas- 
sification like  that  of  Professor  Giddings,  or  the  more  exten- 
sive ones  of  Tarde,  DeGreef  or  Small.  Only  when  we  analyze 
them  into  the  constituent  activities  which  they  include  do  we 
get  units  which  will  fit  into  either  of  the  classifications  last 
discussed. 

I.  Creeds  and  Sciences,  or  Social  Ideas.1 — No  absolute  di- 
vision can  be  made  between  creeds  and  sciences.  It  is  a  dif- 
ference of  degree,  the  word  "science"  implying  relatively  ade- 
quate observation,  or  relatively  clear  and  logical  inference 
from  observed  facts,  and  the  word  "creed"  implying  less  of 
observation  and  logical  inference  and  a  more  subjective  or 
conceptual  origin.  Every  hypothesis  is  at  first  nothing  more 
than  a  creed.  And  the  most  competent  scientists  hold  their 
teachings  in  general  as  "working  hypotheses"  always  subject 
to  the  test  of  further  observation.  Guessing  and  speculation 
give  creeds  which  observation  "either  dispels  or  else  corrob- 
orates and  so  converts  into  science.  On  subjects  that  lie  en- 
tirely beyond  the  range  of  observation  only  creeds  are  pos- 
sible. On  all  other  subjects  men  have  creeds  long  before  they 
have  sciences.  Therefore  as  here  used  the  word  "creed"  does 
not  refer  to  religious  beliefs  alone,  but  also  to  all  of  those 
ideas  about  things  in  general  which  serve  the  purpose  of 
science  before  the  advent  of  science. 

An  Australian  black  fellow  on  a  journey,  finding  that  night 
is  approaching  while  he  is  still  far  from  his  destination,  takes 
a  stone  or  a  clod  and  puts  it  up  as  high  as  he  can  reach  in 
the  fork  of  a  tree  to  trig  the  sun.  It  is  not  a  religious  act, 
it  is  simply  a  piece  of  applied  science,  or  rather  manifesta- 
tion of  one  of  those  ideas  which  precede  science,  and  which 
serves  the  purpose  of  satisfying  curiosity  or  guiding  conduct 
before  science  comes.  The  theory  that  stars  are  the  camp- 

1  The  following  notation  is   used  in  this  classification : 
I.  II.  III.,  main  divisions; 
I.  2.  3.,  subdivisions ; 
(a)    (b)    (c),  sections  of  subdivisions; 
'(i)    (2)    (3),  sections  of  sections. 


ANALYSIS  OF"  SOCIAL  ACTIVITIES  363 

fires  of  departed  ancestors  is  a  bit  of  prescientific  astronomy. 
Even  little  children  ask  hosts  of  hard  questions  and  if  there 
is  no  one  to  answer  them  truly  they  invent  answers  to  as 
many  as  they  can.  A  population  composed  entirely  of  chil- 
dren would  in  this  way  gradually  accumulate  many  ideas. 
All  known  peoples,  including  savages,  have  curiosity  or  a  de- 
sire to  know,  and  have  also  the  need  of  ideas  by  which  to 
guide  and  motivate  their  conduct  and  they  formulate  sets  of 
ideas  which  satisfy  these  needs.  These  are  what,  for  want  of 
a  better  name,  I  am  calling  creeds.  No  people  has  achieved 
scientific  answers  to  all  of  the  hard  questions  about  which 
it  desires  knowledge,  but  even  the  most  civilized  mingle  creeds 
and  sciences,  though  with  respect  to  many  subjects  they  are 
gradually  replacing  the  creeds  that  served  them  as  their  first 
temporary  working  hypotheses,  with  more  scientific  ideas. 
Creeds,  of  course,  differ  in  their  degrees  of  rationality,  and 
different  objects  of  interest  differ  widely  in  their  degrees  of 
accessibility  to  scientific  observation  or  inference;  some  must 
remain  permanently  in  the  fringe  of  inference.  There  are: 

1.  CREEDS  AND  SCIENCES  RELATING  TO  MATERIAL  PHE- 
NOMENA. 

2.  CREEDS  AND  SCIENCES  RELATING  TO  PSYCHIC  INCLUD- 
ING SOCIAL  PHENOMENA. 

3.  CREEDS  AND  SCIENCES  RELATING  TO  THAT  WHICH  is 
BELIEVED  TO  EXIST  BEYOND  THE  SPHERE  OF  OBSERVATION. 
"We  live  in  a  little  island  of  sense  and  fact  in  the  midst  of  an 
ocean  of  the  unknown."    Our  finite  faculties  do  not  take  in  the 
whole  of  things,  but  enable  us  to  see  what  We  need  to  see,  as 
one  walking  in  a  mist  sees  the  next  step,  but  not  the  distant 
landscape,  or  as  one  standing  on  the  beach  looks  out  to  sea,  and 
his  gaze  loses1  itself  in  the  distance.     It  may  do  us  good  to 
gaze  out  to  sea.    Our  knowledge  extends  a  little  beyond  the 
sphere  of  observation  by  means  of  inference.     We  infer  the 
existence  of  power  and  intelligence  adequate  to  the  origination 
and  continuous  causation  of  such  a  universe  as  this. 

Among  savages,  and  in  all  tho§e  stages  of  thought  that 
remotely  precede  the  scientific,  the .  explanations  of  material 
things  He,  in  large  part,  beyond  the  limited  range  of  observa- 


364  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

tion,  so  that  thought  about  material  things  quickly  runs  into 
thought  about  that  which  is  believed  to  exist  beyond  the  sphere 
of  observation.  This  is  what  Comte  called  the  religious  stage 
of  explanation,  which  he  might  perhaps  better  have  called  the 
mythological  stage.  At  this  stage  the  explanation  of  most 
material  phenomena  is  largely  beyond  the  sphere  of  the 
observations  that  have  as  yet  been  made.  Hence,  creeds  of 
the  first,  second,  and  third  class  tend  to  coalesce.  Thus,  the 
idea  of  storms  at  sea  as  caused  by  an  act  of  Neptune  appears 
to  fall  under  the  head  I-i ;  but  the  idea  of  Neptune  as  ruler 
of  the  waters  appears  to  fall  under  the  head  1-3.  Similar 
difficulty  of  classification  is  found  in  low  stages  of  biological 
evolution,  but  differentiation  becomes  clearer  as  evolution 
advances. 

II.  Social  Sentiments.  Prevalent  Activities  in  Which.  Feel- 
ing Predominates.  i.  TASTES  OR  LIKES  AND  DISLIKES.  The 
fact  that  tastes  are  social  products  is  exhibited  by  their  enor- 
mous variation  from  place  to  place  and  age  to  age,  and  by  the 
swift  changes  of  fashion. 

(a)  Economic  wants.    Social  phenomena  of  this  class  are 
exemplified  by  the  Esquimaux's  demand  for  furs  and  sleds, 
and  blubber,  and  by  the  American's  demand  for  silks,  auto- 
mobiles and  china  table-service.    The  description  of  contrast- 
ing societies  must  include  the  enumeration  of  their  diverse 
economic  wants,  and  the  economic  progress  of  society  con- 
sists largely  in  the  rise  and  transformation  of  such  wants. 

(b)  Artistic  tastes.     The  artistic  tastes  of  the  Greeks 
were  innovation's  which  have  become  permanent  possessions 
of  the  western  civilization.     They  were  grafted  upon  tastes 
that  had  been  developed  by  antecedent  cultures.     The  tastes 
of  the  Egyptians, 'the  Arabs,  the  Japanese,  the  Parisians,  and 
no  less  those  of  barbarians  and  savages  which  are  gratified  by 
objects  which  to  us  seem  flaunting  and  grotesque,  are  essential 
elements  in  the  description  of  those  societies.     Their  con- 
trariety illustrates  the  fact  that  tastes  are  social  products  and 
not  instinctive  to  man  as  man. 

(c)  Likings  for  plays  and  recreation.    Examples  are  the 
Chinese  craze  for  gambling,  the  society  woman's  taste  for 


ANALYSIS  OF  SOCIAL  ACTIVITIES  365 

bridge,  and  the  small  boy's  springtime  longing  for  marbles. 
Play  may  be  defined  as  an  activity  which  is  enjoyable  enough 
to  be  continued  with  no  ulterior  aim,  and  which,  if  it  be  mere 
play,  has  no  ulterior  aim  beyond  the  satisfaction  found  in  the 
activity  itself.  Many  kinds  of  work  may  become  play;  thus 
hunting,  fishing,  gardening,  carpentry  and  scientific  research" 
are  often  carried  on  by  persons  who  are  forced  to  them  by  no 
economic  necessity,  and  frequently  as  a  diversion  from  other 
employments.  The  play  of  children  is  often  an  imitation  of 
work.  The  division  between  the  activity  of  slaves  and  that 
of  freemen  once  made  work  seem  despicable  and  painful,  a 
curse.  For  ages  the  free  have  shunned  work  as  a  sign  of 
inferior  social  station.  But  free  work  is  not  a  curse.  Work 
that  is  play  may  be  more  enjoyable  than  long  continuance  in 
any  mere  play,  because  it  is  enjoyed  both  for  the  satisfaction 
found  in  the  activity  and  for  the  hope  of  its  result,  as  well 
as  for  the  satisfaction  which  it  yields  to  the  demands  of  self- 
respect.  On  the  other  hand,  work  may  be  painful  and  not  a 
pleasurable  activity,  arid  then  it  is  mere  drudgery  and  toil,  un- 
less redeemed  by  the  hope  of  result  either  to  the  worker  or 
to  some  other  for  whom  he  cares,  or  by  the  satisfaction  of 
self-respect-;  these  may  redeem  even  toil  and  pain  and  make 
them  zestful  and  joyous,  as  in  the  case  of  the  soldier,  the 
mother,  the  pioneer,  and  at  times  in  the  careers  of  nearly  all 
who  consistently  follow  a  purpose  to  its  accomplishment. 

We  must  distinguish  between  mere  play,  work  that  is  at 
the  same  time  play,  and  mere  work.  Under  the  rigors  of  a 
"pain  economy"  and  before  the  development  of  efficient  tech- 
nology, the  majority  of  adults  had  less  opportunity  for  play 
than  they  now  enjoy,  and  play  was  peculiarly  the  affair  of 
children.  This  still  is  true  to  a  degree,  especially  of  mere 
play,  not  because  adults  cannot  play  but  because  children  can- 
not work  as  adults  can.  Adults  also  play.  The  play  of  chil- 
dren is  simple  but  that  of  adults  is  the  free  play  of  developed 
powers.  Every  free  activity  that  contains  in  itself  a  satisfac- 
tion sufficient  to  constitute  a  motive  for  its  continuance  is 
play.  It  seems  impossible  to  draw  any  other  valid  distinction 
between  play  and  mere  work. 


366  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

With  the  definition  of  play  in  mind,  the  enjoyment  of  art 
is  seen  to  be  a  kind  of  play.  Play  is  not  any  particular  kind 
of  activity,  but  it  is  the  free  play  of  any  or  all  of  our  powers ; 
it  is  by  no  means  confined  to  muscular  activity  but  includes 
the  activity  of  emotion,  imagination,  intellect,  and  of  all  our 
being.  The  enjoyment  of  art,  literature,  science,  or  sociability, 
is  an  emotional  or  intellectual  activity  which  is  largely  inde- 
pendent of  any  motor  activity  on  the  part  of  the  person  enjoy- 
ing the  pleasure. 

There  is  a  universal  tendency  among  all  men  and  the 
higher  animals  to  find  pleasure  in  the  activity  of  their  powers. 
This  is  usually  but  erroneously  spoken  of  as  "the  play  instinct." 
Far  from  being  a  particular,  specific  instinct,  the  tendency  to 
play  is  simply  the  tendency  for  live  things  to  act  and  to  take 
pleasure  in  action.  Stimulated  by  their  environment  they 
begin  to  function  not  in  any  specific  way,  but  in  any  and  all 
of  the  ways  in  which  they  are  adapted  to  function,  and  when 
they  begin  and  continue  to  act  just  for  the  pleasure  of  action, 
it  is  play,  whether  it  be  the  frisking  of  lambs,  the  playing  house 
and  store  and  tag  of  children,  or  the  golf,  fishing,  music  or 
reading  of  grown  men  or  women. 

The  liking  for  an  art  or  play  is  a  social  element  distinct 
from  the  technique  or  practice  of  it.  The  technique  may  easily 
become  dissociated  from  the  taste  so  as  to  become  no  longer 
play  but  mere  work.  Thus  a  professional  player  of  a  game, 
say  baseball  or  billiards,  may  have  a  great  mastery  of  its 
technique  but  have  thoroughly  tired  of  it,  continuing  only  for 
the  pay  or  the  winnings.  The  game  is  then  his  work,  and 
may  be  mere  work.  Again  the  taste  for  an  art  or  a  game 
may  be  dying  out  though  the  method  of  it  is  still  well  known, 
or  conversely,  the  knowledge  of  an  art  may  be  introduced 
to  people  who  regard  it  as  a  curiosity  and  perhaps  an  ab- 
surdity, having  acquired  no  liking  for  it,  as  Americans  know 
the  Chinese  theater  with  its  frightful  orchestral  accompani- 
ment, but  the  taste  for  it  remains  a  social  possession  in  ^rhich 
they  have  little  or  no  share.  The  chief  sociological  impor- 
tance of  distinguishing  between  the  liking  for  an  art  and  the 
practice  of  it  appears  in  the  fact  that  the  taste  for  an  art 


ANALYSIS  OF  SOCIAL  ACTIVITIES  367 

may  be  made  the  common  possession  of  masses  of  the  people, 
even  though  its  technique  necessarily  remains  the  possession  of 
the_artist  class  alone. 

Each  of  these  four  sets  of  likes  and  dislikes  is  of  immense 
importance  in  the  description  of  the  life  of  peoples. 

(d)     Taste  in  etiquette  and  ceremony. 

2.  STANDARDS  OF  SUCCESS  AND  APPROVAL,  OR  THE  SOCIAL 
SENTIMENTS  THAT  ARE  FELT  TOWARD  PERSONS,  OR  THE 
TRAITS  AND  CONDUCT  OF  PERSONS.  Standards  of  success  and 
approval  are  ideas  denning  those  objects  of  desire  by  the  at- 
tainment of  which  the  individual  measures  his  own  worth  and 
wins  the  admiration  and  respect  of  other  members  of  his 
group. 

In  nothing  do  different  societies  show  more  characteristic 
contrasts  than  in  their  standards  of  success.  One  society  ac- 
claims the  member  who  c.an  drink  the  most  beer,  another  the 
member  who  can  write  the  best  poetry,  one  the  member  who 
can  boot  a  pigskin  with  greatest  force  and  accuracy,  another 
the  member  who  can  devise  the  most  brilliant  mathematical 
demonstration.  Nations  differ  widely  in  the  relative  value 
which  they  attach  to  the  various  forms  of  success.  A  nation 
may  measure  success  in  skulls,  like  the  head-hunting  Malays, 
in  scalps,  like  the  Indians,  in  flocks  like  the  pastoral  nomads, 
or  in  dollars,  like  the  more  vulgar  of  Americans.  A  great 
society  as  well  as  a  little  one  may  be  on  the  wrong  track  as 
to  what  constitutes  the  aim  of  life.  Possibly-  no  other  basis 
of  comparison  between  different  peoples  is  so  significant  of 
their  character  and  stage  of  advancement  as  a  comparison 
of  their  standards  of  success  and  approval,  and  no  other 
reform  so  fundamental  as  the  shifting  of  the  emphasis  placed 
upon  the  different  standards  of  success  in  the  regard  of  a 
people. 

In  his  heart  of  hearts  each  individual  judges  himself  by 
standards  derived  from  the  groups  large  or  small,  in  which 
he  has  been  a  member.  He  may  be  proud  of  his  success  as 
a  safe-blower  or  as  an  incorruptible  cashier.  Each  normal 
person  is  impelled  by  these  inner  promptings,  and  by  a  desire 
for  the  respect,  esteem,  and  favor  of  his  fellowmen.  Each 


368  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

tends  to  turn  the  social  judgments  which  he  shares  inward 
upon  himself,  so  that  they  become  his  conscience  as  well  as 
his  ambition.  For  these  reasons  society  can  get  men, of  the 
type  that  it  really  admires,  in  almost  any  number  and 
almost  any  degree  of  development — mighty  money  grabbers 
and  powerful  bosses,  or  serviceable  statesmen,  and  creative 
scientists.  Progress,  not  only  in  the  moral  character  of  a 
people,  but  also  in  the  direction  in  which  their  efforts  are 
exerted,  is  progress  in  the  prevalent  approvals.  And  the  ap- 
provals of  a  people  are  decidedly  changeable.  Seventy-five 
years  ago  a  minister  was  obliged  to  resist  the  hospitality  of 
his  parishioners  if  he  wished  to  return  from  a  round  of 
pastoral  visits  sober.  Another  century  may  witness  a 
similar  advance  in  the  conversation  and  conduct  of  men  in 
relation  to  sexual  decency.  Not  only  does  progress  have  a 
main  root,  if  not  the  tap-root,  in  changes  with  respect  to 
social  approvals,  but  so  even  more  especially  does  degen- 
eracy. Ideas  and  arts  once  discovered  are  not  likely  to  be 
lost,  but  standards  of  approval  more  easily  decay.  Among  the 
common  standards  of  success  are : 

(a)  Physical  prowess.     Social  groups  differ  in  the  esti- 
mate which  they  place  upon  the  manifestation  of  physical 
prowess.    Among  savages  it  may  rank  highest  of  all  the  forms 
of  success,  and  it  has  never  been,  and  one  may  prophesy  that 
it  never  will  be,  lightly  estimated  by  Anglo-Saxons.    The  ap- 
proved forms  of  its  manifestation  vary  from  group  to  group, 
as  our  own  prize-fighting  and  football,  and  as  Spanish  bull- 
fighting illustrate. 

(b)  Gratification  of  Appetite  and  Taste.    The  man  who 
is  able  to  gratify  his  appetites  and  tastes  may  have  not  only 
that  gratification,  but  with  it  the  gratification  of  being  admired 
by  his  associates.    In  that  case  he  is  likely  to  partake  of  his 
gratification  publicly  and  ostentatiously,  whereas,  if  he  were 
a  member  of  a  different  society  which  refused  to  give  its  ad- 
miration upon  this  ground,  or  even  turned  an  ascetic  condem- 
nation against  such  gratifications,  he  would  be  likely  to  conceal 
them  and  would  not  have  the  social  satisfaction  by  which 
in  the  former  case  they  were  accompanied.     New  and  un- 


ANALYSIS  OF  SOCIAL  ACTIVITIES  369 

usual  forms  of  pleasure  are  often  sought  not  so  much  for 
their  own  sake  as  to  excite  the.  admiration  of  those  to 
whom  such  pleasures  are  inaccessible,  and  some  men  are 
proud  even  of  the  marks  of  dissipation  because  they  asso- 
ciate with  a  group  which  regards  them  as  evidences  of 
success. 

(c)  Wealth.  Just  as  pleasure  may  be  desired  not  alone 
for  its  own  sake  but  also  for  the  social  approval  which  it 
secures,  so  too  wealth  is  desired  not  alone  that  it  may  be  used 
but  also  that  it  may  be  displayed.  The  multimillionaire  who 
continues  the  eager  pursuit  of  business  as  a  rule  does  not 
do  so  in  order  that  he  may  have  more  economic  goods  to  enjoy 
but  in  order  that  he  may  have  a  greater  success.  The  tally 
of  life's  success  is  counted  by  him  in  dollars,  and  he  will  run 
up  as  high  a  score  as  he  can. 

For  this  reason  we  spend  a  great  deal  of  our  money  in 
order  to  show  that  we  have  it.  New  inventions  spread  first 
not  alone  because  people  desire  to  make  use  of  them,  for  at 
first  they  may  not  feel  the  need  for  a  commodity  to  which 
they  are  not  yet  habituated,  but  also  because  people  de- 
sire to  be  classed  among  those  who  can  afford  them.  This 
is  one  element  in  the  immense  demand  for  automobiles;  men 
like  to  be  classed  among  those  who  own  them.  Certain 
natives  of  Central  Africa,  having  scarcely  any  other  way  of 
showing  wealth  save  by  a  rude  abundance  of  food,  fatten 
their  wives  until  they  become  such  monsters  of  obesity  that 
they  can  scarcely  rise;  thus  they  display  their  plenty. 
Next  to  lavish  expenditure,  or  "conspicuous  waste," *  as  a 
means  of  displaying  wealth  has  been  "conspicuous  idleness." 
The  slave,  the  serf,  and  the  poor  man  must  work,  but  the 
rich  man  in  most  mammon-worshiping  societies  has  taken 
pains  to  make  it  plain  that  he  did  not  have  to  work.  With 
us,  although  we  worship  mammon  no  less,  this  second  form 
of  wealth  display  has  largely  gone  out  of  vogue  in  the  case 
of  men,  but  not  in  the  case  of  women.  This  is  because  of 
increasing  respect  for  achievement,  by  men.  However,  the 

1 T.  Veblen :  Theory  pf  the  Leisure  Class.  Macmillan,  1899, 
phaps.  ii  and  Hi, 


370  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

type  of  achievement  most  admired,  is  probably  the  specious 
one  of  economic  acquisitiveness,  admiration  of  which,  as  dis- 
tinguished from  economic  productiveness,  is  only  one  step 
higher  than  admiration  of  sybaritic  self-gratification,  and  as  a 
chief  standard  of  social  approval  marks  a  relatively  low  level 
of  social  judgment. 

(d)  Power  Over  Men.    Power  over  men  is  acquired  and 
exercised  in  many  ways,  and  it  is  enjoyed  as  a  proof  of  suc- 
cess apart  from  the  results  which  it  may  achieve.    The  tend- 
ency for  society  to  admire  power  over  men  is  so  great  that 
it  is  with  difficulty  overcome  even  when  the  exercise  of  the 
power  is  injurious  to  society.     Conquerors  and  tyrants  are 
admired,  and  the  exploited  admire  those  by  whom  they  are 
victimized  in  some  instances  more  than  they  do  those  who 
attempt  to  offer  them  aid.    One  of  the  subtler  forms  of  power 
is  personal  charm  which  is  exercised  by  both  men  and  women 
in  every  walk  of  life. 

(e)  Sanctity.     This  word  is  here  used  to  designate  con- 
formity to   religious   as    distinguished   from   moral    require- 
ments.    In  the  higher  manifestations  of  religion  its  require- 
ments tend  to  coalesce  with  those  of  morality,  but  in  many, 
if  not  most,  human  societies  admiration,  respect,  and  influence 
have  been  commanded  by  strict  observance  of  mere  ritualistic 
requirements.    The  Hindoo  fakir  and  the  medieval  saint  are 
examples. 

(f)  Achievement.    Happily  the  forms  of  achievement  are 
numerous;  among  others  they  include  the  following:      (i) 
domestic  efficiency,  home-making  and  child-rearing,  have  been 
the  form  of  achievement  most  open  to  half  the  members  of 
the  human  race.      (2)    Economic  productivity  in  general  is 
a  form  of  achievement  deserving  high  esteem.     There  is  a 
distinction  between  economic  productivity,  which  increases  the 
supply  of  utilities,  and  mere  "business"  which  appropriates 
utilities  to  an  individual  owner.     Most  business,  though  not 
all,  is  more  or  less  productive,  but  even  in  productive  business 
success  is  popularly  measured  not  by  its  productivity  but  by 
its  appropriativeness.     Admiration  and  respect  for  economic 
achievement  in  the  true  sense  of  productivity  is  a  widely  dif- 


ANALYSIS  OF  SOCIAL  ACTIVITIES  371^ 

ferent  thing  from  admiration  of  economic  acquisitiveness  or 
the  accumulation  of  wealth.  A  society  that  pays  little  honor 
to  the  organizer  or  to  the  inventor  as  such  may  honor  the 
successful  exploiter  of  inventions  and  of  the  organizing  ability 
of  others  as  the  exponent  of  its  chosen  form  of  success.  Such 
a  people  will  admire  the  man  who  accumulates  wealth  by  such 
financial  manipulations  as  could  with  difficulty  be  shown  to 
have  any  productive  value,  and  which  expropriate  producers 
of  their  earnings,  while  it  may  not  occur  to  them  that  im- 
provement in  the  quantity  or  quality  of  useful  commodities 
placed  upon  the  market  is  in  itself  an  object  for  ambition  or 
a  form  of  success.  This  is  an  abominable  social  perversion. 
The  true  dignity  of  labor  rests  upon  its  value  as  achievement. 
It  is  a  great  loss  for  any  productive  laborer  to  value  his  work 
solely  for  the  wages  or  profits  that  it  brings.  It  is  his  part 
in  the  social  team  play,  his  work  in  the  world.  If  horses 
should  cease  to  be  well  shod  agriculture  and  traffic  would  be 
hampered,  and  the  whole  system  of  civilized  life  largely  dis- 
organized. Carpenters  and  all  those  working  at  "the  building 
trades"  make  a  perfectly  inestimable  contribution  to  the  main- 
tenance of  civilization.  Each  craftsman  and  even  the  ma- 
chine-tending factory  operative  administers  the  product  of  an 
age-long  evolution,  and  is  an  important  social  functionary. 
The  world  needs  relatively  few  "distinguished  servants,"  but 
it  requires  millions  reliably  discharging  the  vital  functions  of 
society.  The  fidelity  and  the  joy  with  which  work  is  per- 
formed, largely  depends  upon  the  worker's  attitude  toward 
his  task.  (3)  Scientific  and  professional  achievement.  (4) 
Political  achievement.  (5)  Achievement  in  literature  and  art. 
(6)  Military  achievement. 

(g)  Goodness.  Standards  of  success  are  also  negatively 
standards  of  failure,  and  standards  of  disapproval.  Good- 
ness is  the  standard  by  which  moral  approval  and  disapproval 
are  applied.  Goodness  differs  from  other  standards  of  success 
in  that  society  allows  the  individual  to  choose  between  other 
forms  of  success,  which  he  will  aspire  to  and  which  he  will 
neglect,  but  lays  the  claims  of  goodness  upon  all,  and  measures 
all  by  that  standard.  Goodness,  like  other  forms  of  success, 


372  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

is  in  part  a  matter  of  natural  endowment,  but  its  achievement 
requires  continuous  and  protracted  endeavor.  One  is  good, 
the  whole  outgo  of  whose  life,  both  the  overt  outgo  which  may 
be  called  conduct  and  also  the  emotional  outgo  which  may  be 
inferred  from  conduct,  corresponds  to  a  personal  ideal.  A 
personal  ideal  is  necessarily  a  complex  concept.  It  is  in  reality 
a  combination  of  numerous  appreciated  traits  in  their  due 
proportion,  none  omitted,  and  each  subordinated  to  the  whole. 
The  personal  ideals,  being  social  products,  vary  from  one 
society  to  another  exceedingly,  and  such  group  ideals  develop 
gradually.  They  appear  as  sentiments  of  admiration  of,  and 
disgust  at,  personal  traits  and  conduct.  What  conduct  and  dis- 
position shall  appeal  to  the  sentiments  of  a  group  as  admi- 
rable depends  in  part  upon  experience  and  reason,  for  the 
ethical  leaders  of  a  people  select  for  approval  such  traits 
and  such  conduct  as  have  been  shown  by  experience  to 
promote  individual  and  social  welfarCj  and  mark  for  con- 
demnation such  traits  and  conduct  as  tend  to  undermine 
individual  and  social  welfare.  Individuals  differ  both  in  the 
rational  perception  of  the  consequences  of  conduct,  and  in  the 
strength  of  their  sentiments  of  admiration  and  repugnance 
for  human  qualities,  The  mass  of  men  have  a  more  or  less 
vague  sense  of  the  dangerousness  of  the  conduct  which  they 
recognize  as  evil  and  the  promise  of  good  in  the  conduct  which 
they  approve,  and  more  or  less  strength  of  sentiment  in 
admiration  or  detestation  of  moral  qualities.  The  moral 
genius  is  one  who  is  endowed  with  exceptional  strength  of  these 
perceptions  and  sentiments,  as  the  esthetic  genius  is  endowed 
with  exceptional  discernment  and  enthusiasm  for  beauty,  and 
repugnance  for  the  hideous.  The  moral  genius  is  endowed 
not  only  with  strength  of  sentiment,  but  also  with  rational  in- 
sight into  the  consequences  of  conduct  which  enables  him  to 
see  what  to  approve  and  what  to  condemn.  The  growing 
moral  ideal  of  a  society  is  little  by  little  revealed  to  it  by  the 
folk  sense  and  by  the  leadership  of  its  moral  geniuses.  It 
becomes  effective  in  the  social  consciousness  only  as  it  is 
embodied  in  the  personality  of  admired  individuals.  This 
embodiment  is  commonly  fractional,  not  all  elements  in  the 


ANALYSIS  OF  SOCIAL  ACTIVITIES  373 

ideal  being  embodied  with  equal  clearness  in  any  single  indi- 
vidual. 

Moral  approvals  are  as  truly  social  elements  socially  caused, 
as  tastes,  beliefs,  or  any  other  type  of  activity.  This  is  illus- 
trated by  the  fact  that  the  moral  approvals  which  grow  up  in 
the  course  of  social  evolution  in  different  societies  and  which 
characterize  different  stages  of  evolution  in  the  same  society, 
vary  so  widely.  Prevalent  sentiment  has  approved  slavery, 
polygamy,  infanticide,  human  sacrifice,  cannibalism,  wife-lend- 
ing as  a  duty  of  hospitality,  and  it  would  be  hard  to  imagine 
any  act  of  greater  enormity  than  has  been  sanctioned  by  some 
relatively  advanced  society.  As  a  rule  the  moral  approvals  of 
each  individual  are  those  that  have  been  radiated  by  the  social 
contacts  to  which  he  has  been  exposed.  Of  course,  when, 
one  has  been  exposed  to  contradictory  radiations  an  "accom- 
modation" results  (modification  or  displacement  of  some  ap- 
provals by  others).  The  approvals  which  one  has  as  a  mem- 
ber of  society  are  those  which  he  turns  in  upon  himself  and 
which  become  his  conscience. 

There  never  has  been  a  society  which  did  not  tolerate  or 
approve  some  conduct  that  was  bad  for  it.  Our  own  does, 
particularly  in  connection  with  certain  amusements.  There 
has  been  great  progress  in  moral  approvals  and  disapprovals, 
at  the  same  time  there  probably  is  no  other  point  at  which 
change  is  so  likely  to  be  degeneration.  This  danger  results 
from  the  fact  that  approvals,  like  tastes,  are  sentiments,  and 
therefore  are  not  bound  to  the  path  of  progress,  as  ideas  should 
be,  by  logical  consistency;  and  though  they  have  a  basis  in 
reason,  this  basis  is  the  rational  appeal  of  results  which  though 
great  are  largely  diffused,  obscure,  and  remote,  as  against 
the  appeal  of  pleasures  that  are  obvious  and  immediate. 

III.  The  Arts  of  Life,  Social  Practices. — i.  THE  ARTS  AND 
CRAFTS  FOR  THE  ACQUISITION  AND  MANIPULATION  OF  MATE- 
RIAL THINGS. 

(a)  Extraction 

(b)  Transformation 

(c)  Transportation 

(d)  Personal  service 


374  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

(e)  Personal  aggression.     Crimes  and  the  arts  of  crim- 
inals must  be  included  among  socially  prevalent  activities. 

(f)  Exchange 
.     (g)     Theft  J 

(h)  Exaction.  By  exaction  is  meant  the  forcible  taking 
of  material  goods  or  services  when  recognized  as  morally  jus- 
tified. The  exactions  of  parents  upon  children,  and  all  taxa- 
tion of  individuals  by  the  state  fall  here. 

(i)  Giving.  Bequests  fall  under  this  head,  so  that  all 
durable  property  changes  hands  by  this  method  once  in  every 
generation.  Aside  from  bequests,  the  sums  transferred  by 
gifts  in  this  country  amount  to  hundreds  of  millions  annually, 
mainly  support  the  institutions  of  religion,  largely  those  of 
charity,  education,  and  scientific  research,  and  powerfully 
affect  the  social  welfare. 

2.  IN  THE  ACQUISITION  AND  MANIPULATION  OF  PSYCHIC 
POSSESSIONS  : 

(a)  Methods  of  Thought  and  Proof.1  (i)  Mythology. 
This  earliest  stage  of  intellectual  development  characterizes 
all  primitive  peoples,  and  also  the  children  of  the  most  ad- 
vanced peoples.  The  children  of  an  advanced  people  are  not 
allowed  to  remain  in  this  stage  because  they  are  taught  by 
adults  who  have  passed  beyond  it.  The  principal  character- 
istic of  this  stage  is  the  inability  to  reject  clear  ideas.  The 
tendency  of  the  child  is  to  believe  every  idea  that  is  clearly 
formed  in  the  mind.  This  is  not  because  he  is  dull  but  be- 
cause he  knows  no  conflicting  facts  which  disprove  the  clear 
idea.  It  is  not  due  to  stupidity  but  to  lack  of  data.  Heraclitus 
and  Empedocles,  with  all  their  intellectual  ability  naively  ac- 
cepted ideas  which  to  us  seem  absurd  because  they  had  not 
the  necessary  knowledge  with  which  to  test  them.  Previous 
knowledge  is  the  touchstone  for  new  ideas  and  their  naive 
acceptance  is  due  to  lack  of  the  touchstone. 

The  second  characteristic  of  the  mythical  method  is  that 
it  proceeds  by  analogy.  The  savage  and  the  child  ask  many 

1  For  the  sake  of  putting  all  the  "practical  arts''  in  one  class,  we 
must  modify  at  this  point  our  criterion  of  "predominance  of  the  overt." 
Here  the  outgo  is  from  brain-center  to  brain-center. 


375 

hard  questions.  For  the  savage  there  is  no  one  to  answer.  He 
has  not  sufficient  data  for  his  problem  to  enable  him  to  infer 
the  answer  from  observations  which  pertain  to  the  matter  in 
hand,  and  so  the  mind,  restless  without  some  answer,  frames 
one  by  analogy  with  those  matters  concerning  which  he  does 
have  some  knowledge.  Thus  proceeding  by  analogy  he  says, 
for  example,  that  the  stars  are  the  campfires  of  his  departed 
ancestors,  and  having  no  knowledge  about  the  actual  nature 
of  the  stars  which  is  incongruous  with  this  idea  and  as  -the 
idea  satisfies  the  hunger  for  a  reply  to  the  inquiry  and  is  in 
harmony  with  the  most  analogous  realities  with  which  he  is 
acquainted,  it  is  not  merely  adopted  by  its  inventor  but  also 
with  still  greater  readiness  and  certainty  by  the  less  inventive 
minds  of  his  associates. 

The  mythological  method  of  thought  is  not  an  art.  It  is 
artlessness.  At  this  stage  there  does  not  prevail  a  social 
conception  and  approval  of  the  method  employed.  The  method 
is  not  an  additional  social  reality  besides  the  employment  of 
the  method.  There  might,  therefore,  be  question  whether  it 
ought  to  be  included  here.  This  primitive  method  of  thought 
is,  however,  a  distinct  and  definitely  describable  fact  in  the 
life  of  the  peoples  among  whom  it  prevails. 

(2)  Authority.  After  a  society  has  answered  its  hard 
questions  by  the  mythological  method  and  so  has  established 
a  traditional  body  of  doctrine,  and  after  it  has  developed  con- 
siderable skill  in  detecting  logical  inconsistency,  it  no  longer 
naively  welcomes  new  suggestions  if  they  are  at  variance  with 
the  established  creeds.  Thus  it  is  that  the  second  stage  in  the 
development  of  human  thought  follows  upon  the  first  as  a 
natural  and  undesigned  consequence.  This  second  stage  of 
thought  comes  to  be  recognized,  approved,  and  insisted  upon 
and  is  therefore  practiced  as  the  adopted  method  of  procedure. 
It  is  the  method  of  deducing  ideas  from  some  previously  ac- 
cepted body  of  teachings  which  is  chosen  as  the  major  premise 
of  reasoning,  and  that  not  merely  by  a  choice  of  the  indi- 
vidual thinkers  but  by  an  established  social  judgment  from 
which  the  individual  can  hardly  escape.  The  prevalence  of 
this  method  of  thought  and  proof  is  illustrated  by  the  He- 


376  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

brews  at  the  time  of  Christ  with  their  law  and  tradition,  their 
Torah  and  Talmud,1  by  Europe  during  its  age  of  scholasticism, 
by  early  protestantism  with  its  "proof-text  method,"  and  by 
China  until  the  present  time. 

(3)  System.    The  third  stage  in  the  development  of  the 
art  of  thinking  arrives  when  the  crust  of  authority  has  been 
broken  up,  but  when  there  is  not  sufficient  knowledge  of  the 
objective  world  to  serve  as  data  and  tests  of  thought.     The 
mind  is,  therefore,  set  free  to  speculate.    It  is  equipped  with 
ideas  from  previous  stages  of  development  and  with  the  numer- 
ous suggestions  of  present  speculation,  and  sets  out  to  test 
which  of  all  those  ideas  shall  be  retained  and  which  rejected. 
The  test  applied  is  the  demand  that  ideas  shall  be  congruous 
with  one  another.    This  stage  was  exemplified  by  Greek  phi- 
losophy.   Among  the  Greeks  logic  became  not  merely  a  prac- 
tical art  but  also  a  fascinating  game.     The  defender  of  an 
idea  was  successful  in  argument  provided  he  could  avoid  the 
admission  of  any  idea  incongruous  with  his  thesis.     By  this 
method,  elaborate  systems  of  philosophy  or,  as  Steinmetz  says, 
"philosophic  poems"  have  been  built  up.    The  process  was  to 
seize  upon  some  fundamental  doctrine  as  a  main  clue,  one 
that  was  sufficiently  vague  to  escape  collision  with  known  facts, 
and  sufficiently  ingenious  so  that  it  might  conceivably  serve 
as  the  explanation  of  problems ;  then  to  supplement  this  main 
doctrine,  when  necessary,  with  other  concepts  not  inconsistent 
with  it  nor  with  each  other,  which  if  true  would  help  out  the 
explanation  of  the  problems  presented.     In  this  way  it  was 
possible  to  piece  together  a  structure  of  speculative  philosophic 
explanations  more  systematic  and  complete  than  could  be  at- 
tained, at  any  rate  in  that  day,  by  the  patient  and  halting 
method  of  science. 

(4)  Science.    The  methods  of  science  differ  from  the  pre- 
vious methods  in  their  greater  objectivity,  in  keeping  closer 
to  observable  realities,  in  looking  longer  and  more  painstak- 
ingly before  making  a  guess  and  then  looking  again  and  again 

1  The  words  "Mishna"  and  "Gemara,"  which  are  the  names  of  the 
two  parts  of  the  Talmud,  each  mean  "a  deducing"  and  indicate  the 
method  of  drawing  out  teachings  from  the  previous  sacred  scriptures. 


ANALYSIS  OF  SOCIAL  ACTIVITIES  377 

to  test  the  guess.  In  this  stage  the  search  for  descriptions  and 
explanations  which  are  transcripts  of  objective  reality  is  car- 
ried on  by  the  consciously  adopted  method  of  detailed  observa- 
tion, inference,  and  objective  test;  that  is,  by  the  painstaking 
accumulation  of  objective  data,  until  they  suffice  to  yield  an 
inference  which  can  be  tested  by  reference  to  additional  ob- 
jective realities,  of  such  a  sort  as  to  confirm  the  inference  if 
true  and  to  contradict  or  modify  it  if  erroneous.  Science  in  its 
earlier  stages  is  unsystematic.  It  consists  of  beginnings  made 
at  many  points  of  least  resistance.  But  if  all  realities  could 
be  successfully  subjected  to  the  scientific  method  then  all  the 
apparent  inconsistencies  between  our  fragmentary  beginnings 
of  knowledge  would  be  reconciled,  for  we  should  at  last  see 
all  the  realities  together  as  they  exist  together,  and  they  cannot 
contradict  each  other.  Then  all  our  sciences  would  have  be- 
come one  science,  and  that  science  would  be  philosophy;  not 
the  easy  system  constructed  by  speculation,  but  the  positive 
synthetic  philosophy  sought  by  Comte  and  Spencer.  They 
sought  in  vain,  for  the  older  sciences  were  far  too  incomplete, 
and  the  last  science  which  investigates  the  most  complex  phe- 
nomena, the  consummation  of  natural  causation,  was  barely 
born  with  them,  its  phenomena  but  vaguely  conceived  by  them 
and  by  most  of  their  contemporaries  even  regarded  as  falling 
outside  the  realm  of  natural  causation  and  so  excluded  from 
the  system  of  science.  The  complete  synthetic  philosophy  will 
probably  always  be  a  dream  unrealized,  for  the  circle  within 
which  we  observe  and  infer  and  test  bur  inferences  does  not 
bound  the  universe.  But  the  social  facts  are  within  the  circle 
of  our  observation  and  are  as  proper  objects  of  scientific  in- 
vestigation as  any  facts. 

Creeds  give  way  to  science  first  with  reference  to  material 
things,  next  with  reference  to  psychic  and  social  realities,  and 
in  the  realm  that  lies  beyond  observation  never,  save  in  so  far 
as  inference  from  facts  can  be  built  out  cantilever-wise  into  the 
unknown.  Since  science  is  dependent  upon  observation  to 
suggest  and  then  to  test  our  hypotheses,  it  naturally  comes  first 
where  inference  is  easiest  because  observation  is  most  facile 
and  abundant,  and  where  the  testing  of  inferences  is  easiest 


378  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

because  there  is  readiest  resort  to  experiment  or  compari- 
son. In  all  these  particulars,  material  phenomena  are  more 
accessible  to  the  method  of  science  than  are  the  social  and 
psychic. 

Social  realities  are  indeed  open  to  indirect  observation,  but 
there  is  comparatively  great  difficulty  in  testing  theory  by 
experiment.  Instead  of  experiment  social  science  must  rely 
mainly  upon  comparison  which  requires  acquaintance  with  long 
stretches  of  time,  or  with  many  widely  different  specimens  of 
social  evolutions.  The  latter,  that  is,  comparison  between 
contrasting  social  types,  is  by  far  the  greatest  aid  to  objectivity 
and  the  best  antidote  to  bigotry  and  doctrinalism  upon  social 
problems.  Social  science  as  such  must  rely  chiefly  upon  the 
comparative  method. 

The  most  advanced  societies  are  scientific  in  their  treat- 
ment of  material  phenomena,  predominantly  in  the  stage  of 
authority  and  precedent  in  the  social  sciences,  and  system- 
atizers  in  religion. 

Sociology  is  an  intellectual  movement  resulting  from  the 
insistence  of  the  mind  that  the  methods  of  science  shall  be 
carried  out  in  the  realm  of  human  activities.  Any  of  the 
social  sciences  may  become  sociological  by  applying  the  com- 
parative method  with  sufficient  breadth  and  thoroughness,  in 
the  effort  to  discover  and  to  test  general  hypotheses  as  to  the 
methods  of  causation  which  underlie  all  social  life,  just  as- 
botany  or  zoology  or  any  division  of  them  becomes  biology 
by  discovering,  exemplifying  and  testing  hypotheses  concern- 
ing the  general  principles  which  underlie  equally  all  forms  of 
organic  life. 

(b)  Arts  of  Communication,  (i)  Language.  Language 
is  a  typical  social  activity,  the  invention  of  no  individual  but 
the  product  of  social  causation  and  the  common  possession  of 
entire  societies. 

(2)  Literary  and  rhetorical  arts. 

(3)  The  arts  of  secrecy  and  of  deception. 

The  arts  of  secrecy  and  deception  are  not  commonly — per- 
haps not  elsewhere — included  in  such  an  enumeration  as  this, 
but  they  are  social  realities  and  these  arts,  and  the  practice 


ANALYSIS  OF  SOCIAL  ACTIVITIES  379 

of  them,  are  not  to  be  omitted  from  any  complete  and  truthful 
analysis  of  the  social  situation. 

(4)  Arts  of  communicating  across  distances;  signaling, 
post,  telegraph,  telephone. 

(5)  Arts  for  communicating  to  large  numbers,  or  arts 
of    publicity,    the    maintenance    and    utilization    of    convo- 
cations,   pulpit,    platform,    press,    exposition,    museum,    and 
library. 

(6)  Pedagogic  arts  and  practices,  parental  instruction,  the 
school,  arts  of  self-culture. 

(c)  Fine  arts  and  play,  the  activities  of:    (i)  Music;  (2) 
painting;  (3)  sculpture;  (4)  architecture;  (5)  art-crafts;  (6) 
ceremony  and  etiquette;    (7)    theater  and   exhibitions;    (8) 
amateur  athletics;  (9)  games  of  mind,  or  mind  and  chance; 
(10)  outdoor  locomotion,  as  play;  (u)  primitive  industries,  as 
play;  (12)  gambling;  (3)  drinking  and  other  drugging;  (14) 
feasting;  (15)  dancing;  (16)  social  reunion;  (17)  sex  indul- 
gence. 

(d)  Arts  of  organisation  and  administration.    To  elicit 
diverse  activities  adapted  to  specific  ends  and  correlate  them 
into  effective  systems  in  which  the  interrelation  of  the  activi- 
ties multiplies  their  effectiveness  is  among  the  finest  of  the 
practical  arts.     There  are  five  spheres  of  activity  in  which 
special  arts  of  organization  have  been  developed,  adapted  to 
the  special  requirements  of  each : 

(1)  Domestic  organization. 

(2)  Political   organization. 

(3)  Economic  organization.    In  times  of  feudalism,  serf- 
dom, and  such  slavery  as  that  of  Sparta,  economic  and  po- 
litical organization  are  largely  identical.     Subsequently,  the 
differentiation  between  political  and  economic  organization  has 
gone  far ;  now,  however,  there  is  a  movement  toward  increasing 
their   interrelationship.     The   enforcement  of   contracts,   the 
collection  of  debts,  the  definition  of  hours  and  conditions  of 
labor,  and  the  enforcement  of  the  liabilities  of  employers, 
illustrate  the  relation  between  economics  and  government,  so 
also  do  the  definition  of  weights  and  measures,  the  coinage 
of  money,  and  the  inspection  of  banking,  insurance,  and  trans- 


38o  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

portation.  Every  corporation  is  to  a  considerable  degree  a 
public  organization. 

Organization  as  an  art  of  manipulating  human  activities, 
plays  nearly  or  quite  as  important  a  part  in  economic  achieve- 
ment as  do  the  technic  arts  and  crafts  which  manipulate  ma- 
terial things.  This'is  illustrated  in  manufacture,  transporta- 
tion, and  nearly  all  modes  of  economic  activity.  It  is  only  in 
the  simplest  forms  of  economic  activity,  particularly  in  the 
elementary  forms  of  extractive  industry,  such  as  farming  and 
trapping,  that  the  organization  of  cooperating  human  activities 
occupies  a  place  distinctly  subordinate  to  the  technic  crafts. 

The  facts  of  nature  almost  defy  logical  classification ;  in 
this  the  facts  of  sociology  do  not  differ  from  others.  But  if 
the  results  of  classification  are  uncertain  and  a  makeshift  con- 
venience, the  process  of  classifying  is  one  of  the  greatest  aids 
to  exact  observation.  It  is  not  easy  to  determine  whether  con- 
venience and  understanding  are  best  served  by  classifying  ex- 
change among  the  arts  for  manipulating  material  things  or 
among  the  arts  of  economic  organization.  If  one  adopts,  as 
we  do,  the  purpose  served  as  the  basis  of  classification,  the 
arrangement  already  given  is  correct.  One  who  tried  to  base 
his  classification  on  the  nature  of  the  technique  of  an  art  would 
put  exchange  among  the  arts  of  organization  and  could  claim 
that  exchange  is  an  adjustment  of  psychic  realities.  The  sales- 
man, as  truly  as  the  teacher  or  preacher,  is  seeking  to  induce 
mental  states.  He  wishes  to  have  men  make  up  their  minds 
to  accept  what  he  has  to  offer  and  to  relinquish  what  they 
have  to  give.  Is  not  exchange  then  a  correlation  between 
activities  of  the  parties,  and  is  not  promotion  of  exchanges  an 
act  of  organization,  a  manipulation  of  psychic  realities  as  the 
method  of  obtaining  possession  of  material  goods  ?  The  truth 
is  that  the  practice  of  every  art  includes  both  psychic  and 
material  elements;  even  language  involves  the  use  of  vocal 
organs  and  air  waves,  and  the  telephone  employs  poles,  wires, 
and  batteries.  It  would  seem  more  scientific  to  classify  with 
reference  to  the  predominant  character  of  the  art  itself,  rather 
than  with  reference  to  the  purpose  which  it  serves,  but  that 
wpuld  require  a  classification  far  less  obvious,  and  far  less  irj 


ANALYSIS  OF  SOCIAL  ACTIVITIES  381 

accord  with  popular  usage;  it  would  put  the  telephone  and 
other  arts  for  communicating  across  distances  among  the 
arts  with  a  technique  of  material  manipulation  and  it  would 
put  exchange  among  the  arts  of  organization. 

(4)  Religious  organization. 

(5)  Organization  of  public  opinion. 

Professor  Cooley,  in  his  valuable  book  entitled  "Social  Or- 
ganization, a  Study  of  the  Larger  Mind,"  showed  that  what  we 
call  public  opinion  is  a  correlation  or  organization  of  the  ideas 
and  sentiments  of  great  numbers  of  people.  The  organization 
of  public  opinion  might  be  termed  the  art  of  organization  par 
excellence.  It  is  true,  however,  that  the  shaping  of  public 
opinion  has  been  largely  an  artless  and  undesigned  product  of 
natural  causes.  But  in  all  developed  societies  the  artful  manip- 
ulation of  it  is  attempted  on  a  considerable  scale.  And  the 
art  of  organizing  public  opinion  would  be  the  consummate 
application  of  the  science  of  sociology.1 

The  Fourth.  Kingdom  of  Kealities. — This  bare  enumeration 
of  the  different  kinds  of  social  activities  is  enough  to  make 
us  realize  that  their  extent  and  variety  are  tremendous.  They 
constitute  a  fourth  great  kingdom  of  natural  phenomena  which 
is  neither  animal,  vegetable,  nor  mineral.  A  single  concrete 
prevalent  social  activity,  like  a  language,  a  science,  a  religion, 
slavery,  or  polygamy,  is  an  objective  phenomenon  as  real  and 
imposing  as  a  mountain  range  or  as  a  biological,  species.  A 
single  feature  in  an  institution,  like  trial  by  jury  as  a  feature 
of  court  procedure,  or  a  single  item  in  the  political  policy  of 

1  EXERCISE  :  Name  a  specimen  of  each  variety  of  social  activity 
mentioned  in  the  preceding  classification.  When  possible  select  speci- 
mens that  are  to  be  found  in  the  community  where  you  are,  prefer- 
ably such  as  differentiate  that  community  from  the  surrounding  so- 
ciety. 

Go  about  it  as  a  class  in  botany  goes  about  gathering  and  classify- 
ing the  botanical  varieties  to  be  found  within  walking  distance  of  the 
University.  The  classification  is  largely  based  on  quantitative  marks ; 
that  is,  the  question  of  predominance  of  sentiment  over  the  idea  that 
evokes  it,  or  overt  practice  over  the  sentiment  or  idea  that  guides  it. 
This  is  unavoidable,  since  all  the  elements  are  usually  present  in  a 
social  activity,  and  it  is  concrete  social  activities  and  not  psychological 
abstractions  that  we  must  classify. 


382  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

a  great  people,  like  the  separation  of  church  and  state,  or  the 
protective  system  as  it  long  existed  in  this  country,  is  a  reality 
out  there  in  the  world  with  which  we  have  to  do,  which  has 
had  a  long  and  interesting  evolution;  and  to  remove  such  a 
reality  is  a  feat  like  tunneling  the  Alps,  although  unlike  the 
Alps  it  is  a  living  thing,  a  part  of  the  life  of  the  people,  and 
though  it  may  endure  for  centuries,  and  while  in  full  vigor 
stubbornly  resists  change,  yet  it  is  not  petrified  but  at  the  proper 
conjunction  of  conditions  will  show  that  it  possesses  the  ca- 
pacity for  change  which  is  characteristic  of  life.  Few  have 
formed  the  habit  of  thinking  about  these  invisible  but  mo- 
mentous realities,  and  for  lack  of  the  habit  most  persons  find 
some  difficulty  in  the  first  attempt.  Yet  these  realities  are  as 
truly  capable  of  description  and  explanation  as  are  the  dif- 
ferent species  of  animals  or  of  plants.  The  ideas  that  we 
may  form  concerning  them  are  perfectly  definite  and  clear,  if 
not  simple,  and  the  difficulty  of  thinking  clearly  about  them 
rapidly  diminishes  with  familiarity. 


CHAPTER   XXI 

MODES   OF  VARIATION   IN   SOCIAL  ACTIVITIES 

The  next  step  in  describing  the  social  realities  is  to  dis- 
tinguish the  modes  of  variation  to  which  they  are  subject.  We 
are  not  speaking  of  variation  from  place  to  place  and  from 
one  society  to  another,  such  as  the  contrasts  between  the  social 
activities  of  Zulus  and  Esquimaux,  but  of  variations  in  the 
activities  of  the  same  people  or  of  their  children  and  children's 
children,  and  of  variations  in  the  same  activity  of  the  same 
people  at  different  stages  of  development,  save  as  the  activity 
ceases  to  be  the  same  by  the  very  fact  of  variation.  We  are 
using  the  word  "variation"  as  the  biologist  uses  that  term,  to 
mean,  not  differences  between  unrelated  or  remotely  related 
"speciespBut  those  nhated  changes  in  a  species  by  which  a 
new  variety  of  the  species  is  formed  and  a  new  stage  ~6f 
evolution  is  reached. 

A  study  of  these  "modes  of  variation  is  of  the  highest  scien- 
tific importance  since  these  modes  of  variation  may  be  called 
the  terms  in  the  evolution  of  social  realities.  It  is  of  the 
highest  practical  importance,  for  the  practical  application  of 
any  science  of  life  (biology,  psychology,  or  sociology)  consists 
mainly  in  securing  desired  and  preventing  undesired  variations 
in  realities  the  modification  of  which  can  be  controlled  only 
by  understanding  the  natural  tendencies  that  effect  them. 

The  principal  modes  of  variation  in  social  phenomena  are 
five,  of  which  the  fifth  has  several  important  subdivisions. 

1.  Social  Phenomena  Vary  in  Prevalence. — Expansions 
and  contractions  in  the  prevalence  of  social  activities  are  per- 
haps the  simplest  form  of  their  variation.  The  method  of  this 
expansion  and  contraction  is  the  chief  subject  treated  by 
Professor  Tarde  in  his  great  book  on  the  "Laws  of  Imita- 
tion." Generally  speaking,  each  new  element  introduced  into  a 

383 


384  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

social  activity  is  originated  by  an  individual,  and  from  the 
originator  the  innovation  spreads.  It  is  indeed  possible  that  a 
simple  and  obvious  innovation,  or  one  to  which  previous  devel- 
opment had  led  up  so  that  it  is  naturally  the  next  step,  may 
occur  independently  to  several  minds.  In  that  case  we  have  an 
instance  of  multiple  origination.  But  even  then  the  only  de- 
parture from  the  ordinary  is  in  the  fact  that  social  suggestion, 
radiation  or  imitation  issues  from  several  centers  instead  of 
from  one.  Multiple  origin  frequently  accounts  for  the  origina- 
tion of  similar  activities  in  independent  communities,  but  it 
seldom,  if  ever,  suffices  to  account  for  any  considerable  preva- 
lence of  an  activity  in  a  community.  In  securing  the  preva- 
lence of  social  activities  the  overwhelmingly  predominant  fac- 
tors are  social  suggestion,  sympathetic  radiation  and  imitation. 
The  conditions  that  limit  expansion  of  prevalence  or  actually 
cause  its  contraction  and  even  bring  about  the  extinction  of 
activities  once  widely  prevalent,  are  found  chiefly  in  the  inter- 
ference of  prevalent  activities  with  each  other,  which  is  one 
of  the  phases  of  "accommodation"  already  discussed,  by  help 
of  comparison  with  the  interference  of  spreading  circles  in  the 
water  where  stones  have  fallen. 

2.  Social  Phenomena  Vary  in  Strength. — (a)  An  idea 
may  be  held  merely  as  a  fancy,  or  as  a  plausible  conjecture, 
or  as  a  working  hypothesis,  or  as  an  unshaken  conviction. 
Ideas  that  have  been  held  as  convictions  may  be  questioned,  fall 
into  doubt,  become  weakened  so  as  to  lose  their  power  to  hold 
a  prominent  place  in  attention  or  to  express  themselves  in 
overt  deeds.  An  individual  may  either  lose  his  power  or 
be  transformed  from  weakness  into  strength  by  the  weakening 
or  strengthening  of  his  dominant  convictions ;  and  an  age  or  a 
people  may  be  full  of  power  because  of  a  general  assurance  of 
conviction,  or  their  strength  may  be  dissolved  in  doubt,  or  in 
some  departments  of  their  life  they  may  be  confident  and 
strong  and  at  the  same  time  in  other  departments  of  life  be 
in  the  uncertainty  of  transition.  This  does  not  depend  upon 
the  degree  of  truth  in  their  ideas,  but  in  the  degree  of  strength 
with  which  the  ideas  are  held.  Erroneous  ideas  may  be 
strongly  held  and  may  give  power  to  a  man  or  to  a  society, 


VARIATION  IN  SOCIAL  ACTIVITIES  385 

as  religious  and  political  history  abundantly  illustrate.  Errone- 
ous ideas  are  mischievous  and  destructive  in  the  long  run  if 
they  relate  to  matters  of  practical  experience,  but  not  neces- 
sarily so  at  first,  because  they  may  impel  in  the  direction  of 
needed  progress  and  cannot  be  carried  to  their  full  logical  ex- 
pression. Society  is  prone  to  err  in  one  direction  and  then  to 
secure  reform  by  advocating  the  opposite  error  or  exaggera- 
tion. Thus  under  a  despotism,  society  may  profit  by  the  doc- 
trine of  anarchism  that  human  nature  would  blossom  into  every 
excellence  if  all  restraints  were  removed,  and  in  a  time  of 
violence  and  disorder,  society  may  profit  by  the  doctrine  of 
the  divine  rights  and  unlimited  prerogatives  of  rulers.  Fur- 
thermore, ideas  that  afford  consolation  and  inspiration  may  be 
speculatively  held  concerning  matters  that  are  beyond  the 
sphere  of  observation  and  experience  and  have  no  direct  prac- 
tical consequences  save  in  the  minds  of  the  believers.  Thus 
men  have  been  prone  freely  to  draw  inspiration  from  the 
unknown.  But  as  the  advancing  boundary  of  knowledge 
compels  the  abandonment  of  one  and  another  of  the  beliefs 
thus  speculatively  adopted,  we  are  more  and  more  compelled 
to  seek  our  sustaining  and  guiding  principles  from  the  facts 
of  life  which  we  are  at  length  trying  to  study  with  scientific 
care.  If  it  turns  out  that  we  cannot  live  in  the  clouds  we 
may  build  habitations  upon  the  solid  rock;  if  we  cannot  have 
the  moon  and  the  stars  we  may  gather  flowers  and  fruits  and 
even  discover  diamonds  in  the  dust. 

(b)  A  popular  taste  or  sentiment  may  vary  in  all  degrees 
from  the  zero  of  absolute  indifference  to  the  boiling-point  of 
enthusiasm.  For  illustrations  recall  the  rise  and  passing  of 
the  "bicycle  craze"  or  the  "tulip  craze"  that  made  a  bulb  as 
precious  as  a  diamond,  the  increase  of  musical, interest  in  cer- 
tain American  cities,  the  decay  of  the  power  of  the  ideals  of 
chivalry  or  of  the  prestige  of  "noble"  birth,  and  the  immensely 
increased  respect  for  business  success  in  recent  times,  the  occa- 
sional effervescences  of  patriotic  fervor  which  mark  the  his- 
tory of  peoples  and  the  alternating  periods  of  widespread  re- 
ligious coldness  and  of  revivalistic  fervor  which  have 
acterized  the  religious  history  of  our  country. 


386  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

It  is  important  to  distinguish  clearly  between  the  two  forms 
of  variation  thus  far  mentioned.  Variation  in  strength  is  by 
no  means  to  be  confused  with  variation  in  prevalence.  It  is 
true  that  when  all  our  associates  hold  a  given  belief  or  feel 
a  given  sentiment,  we  tend  to  hold  that  belief  with  firmer  con- 
viction or  to  feel  that  sentiment  with  greater  zeal.  Never- 
theless the  first  disciples  of  a  new  belief  or  sentiment  may  hold 
it  with  far  greater  strength  than  the  thousands  who  later 
become  converted  to  if.  And  it  may  hold  its  own  in  the  num- 
ber of  adherents  or  even  go  on  extending  in  prevalence  after 
its  strength  has  greatly  declined.  Consequently,  to  measure 
the  social  power  of  a  belief  or  sentiment  by  the  number  of 
professed  adherents  may  be  utterly  misleading;  variations  in 
strength  must  be  recognized  as  distinct  from  variations  in 
prevalence. 

3.  Compound  Social  Activities  Vary  in  Uniformity. — Just 
as  there  is  organic  variation  between  the  specimens  of  the  same 
species  of  animals  or  plants,  so  that  no  two  specimens  are 
alike,  similarly  between  prevalent  activities  of  the  same  kind 
there  is  variation.  Customs,  institutions,  and  all  the  more 
massive  prevalent  social  activities  are  compounded  of  various 
elements  of  belief,  emotion,  and  expression.1  Variation  in 

1  Thus  Republicanism  has  long  included  a  strong  sentiment  of  loy- 
alty to  the  party  name,  pride  in  the  names  of  great  leaders  from  Lin- 
coln to  Elaine,  and  in  historic  traditions  of  the  sixties,  belief  in  nation- 
alism as  against  state  sovereignty,  in  the  policy  o^  protection  versus 
free  trade,  in  the  gold  standard  for  money,  in  the  inviolability  of  the 
"rights  of  private  property,"  in  a  strong  navy  and  colonial  expansion, 
and  in  representative  government  as  against  direct  legislation.  Re- 
cently there  has  been  much  diminution  of  uniformity  with  reference 
to  the  last  of  these  ten  items.  On  the  other  hand,  many  other  senti- 
ments or  ideas  have,  from  time  to  time,  entered  into  the  make-up 
of  Republicanism,  either  increasing  its  uniformity  and  solidity,  or 
diminishing  it;  for  example,  belief  in  the  Panama  Canal  Project,  in 
the  civil  service  merit  system,  in  publicity  of  campaign  funds,  in  reci- 
procity, in  postal  savings-banks,  and  parcels  post;  and  in  the  con- 
servation of  natural  resources,  etc. 

Methodism,  when  its  uniformity  was  greatest,  included  emphasis 
of  the  "spirit"  versus  formalism,  in  theory,  sentiment,  and  practice, 
belief  in 'free  will  versus  predestination,  in  the  possibility  of  falling 
from  grace  versus  the  perseverance  of  the  saints,  in  a  supernatural 


VARIATION  IN  SOCIAL  ACTIVITIES  387 

some  of  the  included  elements  may  take  place  without  de- 
stroying the  identity  of  the  activity  as  a  whole.  The  political 
ideas  and  sentiments  of  two  men  need  not  be  identical  in 
every  respect,  in  order  for  the  political  activity  of  each,  taken 
as  a  whole,  to  be  truly  identified  as  Republicanism.  Thus  the 
Republicanism  of  men  in  Maine,  with  its  desire  for  a  tariff 
on  lumber,  is  not  identical  with  the  Republicanism  of  men  in 
Missouri.  Neither  need  the  religious  ideas  and  sentiments  of 
two  men  be  identical  for  both  to  be  Methodists.  A  given 
kind  of  activity  may  at  one  time  be  comparatively  free  from 
variations  and  at  another  time  it  may  vary  quite  widely  and 
tend  to  break  up  into  subvarieties.  For  example,  Republi- 
canism in  the  time  of  Grant,  while  by  no  means  without  varia- 
tions, was  comparatively  uniform,  mingled  with  various  moral 
principles  and  private  interests  no  doubt,  yet  the  Republicanism 
itself  not  only  a  widely  prevalent  and  strong,  but  also  a  highly 
regular  and  uniform  social  activity,  as  compared  with  the 
Republicanism  of'  to-day.  Democracy  during  the  same  interval 
has  also  lost  in  uniformity,  though  it  has  recently  gained  in 
prevalence  and  strength.  Methodism,  what  with  the  introduc- 
tion of  radical '  changes  in  the  interpretation  of  the  Bible  in 
the  minds  of  some,  while  others  refuse  to  accommodate  the 
creed  of  their  forefathers  to  the  progress  of  knowledge,  may 
have  diminished  in  uniformity  at  least  as  much  as  either  Re- 
publicanism or  Democracy.  At  the  same  time  we  are  wit- 
nessing the  spread  and  solidification  of  certain  political  ideas 
not  the  possession  of  either  great  party,  and  of  certain  religious 
and  moral  ideas  not  the  possession  of  any  denomination,  which 
may  soon  lead  to  a  reorganization  of  parties  with  or  without 
change  of  names  and  to  a  progressive  amalgamation  of  re- 
ligious sects.1 

change  of  heart,  in  baptism  by  immersion  or  sprinkling  according  to 
the  conscience  of  the  candidate,  the  class  meeting,  the  episcopacy,  the 
probation  of  members,  the  ban  upon  "worldly  amusements,"  hell  fire, 
the  personal  devil,  the  Trinity,  the  physical  second  coming  of  Christ, 
the  inerrancy  of  the  Scriptures  and  pride  in  and  loyalty  to  the  sect. 
1  EXERCISE:  i.  Analyze  great  social  realities  besides  Methodism  and 
Republicanism  into  their  component  activities.  2.  Which  components 
are  social  ideas,  which  social  sentimen'.s,  and  which  social  practices? 


388  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

4.  Compound  Social  Activities  Vary  in  Content. — Varia- 
tion in  content  is  the  disappearance  of  some  element  that  has 
been  included  in  a  composite  social  activity,  or  the  addition 
of  some  element  not  previously  included.  Each  complex  social 
activity  is  in  reality  a  system  of  ideas,  sentiments  and  prac- 
tices, and  therefore  can  suffer  the  loss  of  some  of  its  elements 
or  the  addition  of  a  new  one  without  losing  its  identity  as  a 
whole.  Sometimes  the  use  of  and  attachment  to  a  given 
name  is  the  one  element  in  an  old  system  of  activity  which 
persists. 

Variation  in  content  ordinarily  comes  gradually  and  so 
involves  a  variation  in  uniformity  till  the  loss  of  the  disap- 
pearing element  is  complete  or  till  the  acceptance  of  the  new 
element  is  unanimous.  But  while  variation  in  content  almost 
necessarily  implies  variation  in  degree  of  uniformity,  variation 
in  uniformity  by  no  means  implies  variation  in  content.  At 
the  end  of  a  period  of  great  variation  in  uniformity  analysis 
of  a  complex  social  reality  may  find  it  to  include  the  same 
elements  as  at  the  beginning,  there  being  only  a  variation  in 
the  strength  and  prevalence  of  the  separate  elements  with  no 
addition  to  or  subtraction  from  their  number. 

Let  each  line  represent  a  belief,  sentiment,  a  practice  in- 
cluded in  a  composite  social  activity;  some  lines  break  off  to 


indicate  that  certain  elements  in  this  composite  activity  do  not 
prevail  in  all  sections  of  the  party,  sect,  or  class  that  carries  on 
the  composite  activity  as  a  whole.  Some  of  the  lines  are  a 
part  of  the  way  heavy  and  a  part  of  the  way  faint  to  indicate 
that  certain  elements  in  the  composite  activity  vary  in  strength 
in  different  sections  of  the  party  or  sect  or  class.  These 
breaks  and  shadings  indicate  variations  in  uniformity.  But 
the  entire  disappearance  of  an  included  activity  indicated  by 


VARIATION  IN  SOCIAL  ACTIVITIES  389 

one  of  these  lines,  or  the  addition  of  a  new  line  would  repre- 
sent a  variation  in  content.  If  the  obliterated  idea  or  senti- 
ment had  prevailed  throughout  the  party,  sect,  or  class  or 
the  new  one  came  to  prevail  throughout  the  party,  sect,  or 
class,  then  the  variation  in  content  would  bring  with  it  no 
variation  in  uniformity. 

In  applying  the  statistical  method  it  is  highly  important  to 
take  heed  of  variations  in  strength,  uniformity,  and  content 
and  not  merely  of  variations  in  the  prevalence  of  complex 
activities,  for  the' units  of  complex  activity  tabulated  by  the 
statistician,  while  remaining  the  same  in  their  general  charac- 
ter, may  vary  so  greatly  in  these  subtler  ways  as  to  require 
significant  modification  or  even  a  reversal  of  the  conclusion 
based  on  statistical  results. 

5.  Compound  Social  Activities  Vary  in  Phase. — Social  ac- 
tivities exist  in  several  phases,  and  it  is  possible  for  the  same 
activity  to  pass  through  all  the  principal  phases.  Thus  a 
fashion  may  in  time  become  a  custom  and  a  mere  custom 
may  become  an  institution.  The  principal  phases  of  social 
activity-  are  custom,  fashion,  rational  acceptance,  institution, 
and  organization.  Custom,  fashion,  rational  acceptance,  and 
institution  are  due  to  the  addition  of  certain  elements  to  the 
content  of  a  compound  social  activity,  which  leave  the  dom- 
inant elements  in  the  activity  undestroyed  but  give  it  a  new 
character,  as  overtones  make  the  "do"  of  an  organ  and  of  a 
violin  different  in  character  from  each  other  though  each  is 
"do."  For  example,  the  cremation  of  the  dead  in  India  is 
mingled  with  elements  of  sentiment  which  make  it  a  custom; 
but  the  cremation  of  the  dead  for  sanitary  and  economic  rea- 
sons in  an  American  city  has  not  these  overtones  and  therefore 
is  not  a  custom  and  without  them  could  not  be  a  custom  how- 
ever prevalent  it  might  become.  Instead  it  has  mingled  with 
it  other  elements  which  make  it  a  case  of  rational  acceptance. 
It  is  essentially  the  same  act,  as  middle  C  is  "do"  on  the  organ 
or  on  the  violin,  but  it  appears  in  quite  different  phases  because 
of  these  different  included  elements. 

(a)  CUSTOM.  If  we  take  human  history  as  a  whole  and 
include  in  our  view  the  life  of  savage  and  barbarous  ages 


390  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

and  of  the  savage  and  barbarous  peoples  of  the  present,  we 
shall  see  that  custom  has  been  the  overwhelmingly  predom- 
inant phase  of  social  activity.  The  word  "custom"  applies  most 
obviously  to  overt  practice,  yet  in  a  sense  all  beliefs  and  sen- 
timents as  well  as  practices  may  become  customary.  And  there 
is  no  custom  that  does  not  contain  ideas  and  sentiments. 

The  definition  of  custom  includes  at  least  three  parts.  The 
first  is  an  idea,  propagated  by  mass  suggestion ;  the  idea  of 
what  one  has  usually  or  always  seen  others  do,  think,  and  feel 
upon  given  occasions  is  powerfully  thrust  upon  the  mind  upon 
the  appearance  of  the  appropriate  occasion.  The  second  is 
group  expectation.  The  group  has  learned  to  expect  that  each 
member  upon  the  appropriate  occasion  will  respond  in  the  cus- 
tomary way,  and  any  other  response  causes  a  shock  of  surprise. 
The  member  shares  this  expectation,  consciously  or  subcon- 
sciously, and  would  be  surprised  to  find  himself  acting  in  any 
other  way,  and  is  quite  aware  that  he  would  surprise  his  neigh- 
bors. The  third  is  the  emotional  preference  due  to  familiarity. 
The  group,  surprised  by  uncustomary  behavior  on  the  part  of 
one  of  its  members,  and  the  member  himself  assailed  by  the 
mere  thought  of  behavior  which  violates  custom,  feels  a  shock 
not  only  of  surprise  but  also  of  displeasure  or  disgust.  We  be- 
come psychologically  adapted  to  that  with  which  we  are  fa- 
miliar. One  who  leaves  home  for  the  first  time  suffers  from 
homesickness,  not  because  the  new  surroundings  are  inferior; 
they  may  be  vastly  superior  and  the  homesickness  be  all  the 
greater,  for  it  is  due  not  to  the  inferiority  of  the  new,  but  to 
the  mere  fact  of  difference  from  that  which  is  familiar.  Like- 
wise the  unsophisticated  traveler  in  a  foreign  country  is  likely 
to  look  with  pity  and  contempt  upon  what  is  different  from 
his  own  land,  notwithstanding  it  may  be  superior. 

This  predilection  for  the  customary  modes  of  activity  due 
to  preference  for  the  familiar  and  repugnance  to  the  strange, 
is  ordinarily  reenforced  by  group  pride,  and  by  vague  fear  of 
the  unknown  and  its  possible  consequences.  The  preference 
for  the  familiar  says,  "That  is  not  the  way — what  a  way  that 
is!"  Group  pride  says,  "That  is  not  our  way,  and  our  way 
is  best,  you  would  not  find  one  of  us  doing  so!"  And  fear 


VARIATION  IN  SOCIAL  ACTIVITIES  391 

of  the  unknown  says,  "Nobody  can  tell  what  may  come  of  it." 
Custom  we  see  is  capable  of  as  precise  definition  as  that  of 
a  biological  order  or  class.  A  jaistoinjs  the  idea 1  of  an  ac- 
tivity,  propagated  by  suggestion  from  the  already  established 
prevalence  of  the  activity,  together  with  group  expectation 
that  the  given  activity  will  be  enacted  upon  every  appropriate 
occasion,  and  emotional  preference  2  for  the  customary  activity 
rather  than  any  substitute  for  it>  due  to  familiarity,  together 
with  the  activities  which  upon  occasion  give  renewed  expres- 
sion to  the  idea. 

Custom-bound  epochs.  The  emotional  preference  for  the 
familiar  and  the  feeling  of  shock  and  disgust  at  the  unfamiliar 
and  unexpected  have  at  most  times  and  in  most  places  had  a 
degree  of  strength  that  we  little  conceive;  for  we  live  in  an 
age  of  innovation  and  have  become  accustomed  to  change, 
as  a  tame  moor  hen  can  become  accustomed  to  her  master's  dog 
from  which  it  is  her  nature  to  fly  in  an  agony  of  terror.  The 
power  of  custom  is  by  no  means  obsolete  even  with  us  in  this 
most  innovating  time  and  country.  Does  the  American  man 
consciously  decide  whether  he  shall  wear  trousers  or  flowing 
oriental  robes  or  a  Roman  toga  ?  No ;  custom  decides  that  for 
him;  group  expectation  would  be  shocked,  and  established 
emotional  preference  outraged  by  "men  in  skirts."  At  most 
times  and  places  custom  has  similarly  decided  nearly  all  prac- 
tices, ideas,  and  sentiments.  Established  custom  makes  depart- 
ure from  the  customary  more  or  less  preposterous.  Among 
savage  and  barbarous  peoples  its  weight  has  so  com- 

1  We  in  this  assembled  class  have  our  marriage  customs,  although 
there  is  no  wedding  in  progress;  that  is  to  say  we  have  the  idea  of 
how  a  wedding  would  be  conducted  if  there  were  occasion  to  celebrate 
one. 

'These  are  the  "overtones."  A  figure  may  serve  to  visualize  the 
idea.  Let  the  heavy  line  represent  the  idea  of  an  activity  radiated 
by  mass  suggestion,  and  let  the  thin  lines  represent  the  overtones : 


O 

H 


=  group  ex- 
pectation 


incremation. 


1/1       

= preference 
for  the 
familiar 


392  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

pletely  held  down  individual  choice  or  invention  in  the  types 
of  activity  that  individuals  have  had  little  more  to  do  with 
deciding  for  themselves  the  character  of  their  beliefs,  prefer- 
ences, ambitions,  moral  approvals,  or  practical  arts,  than  a 
daisy  or  buttercup  has  in  deciding  the  shape  of  its  leaves  or 
the  color  of  its  flowers.  Some  men  among  barbarous  peoples 
wax  mighty  and  dominant  as  some  plants  grow  tall  and 
strong,  while  others  remain  stunted,  but  all  according  to  the 
customary  mode  of  exercising  power.  Some  men  among  them 
have  innovated  slightly  as  plants  show  universal  organic  vari- 
ation and  occasional  sports.  But  in  general  the  reign  of  nat- 
ural causation,  through  mass  suggestion,  radiation,  and  imita- 
tion, in  the  case  of  savage  and  barbarous  men,  has  been  as 
little  affected  by  the  freedom  of  individuals  as  the  reign  of 
heredity  in  plant  and  animal  life  is  interfered  with  by  muta- 
tion. An  explanation  of  the  evolution  of  customary  beliefs 
and  activities  is  a  problem  of  natural  science. 

The  social  protoplasm.  It  may  excite  some  surprise  that 
among  the  five  phases  in  which  social  activities  appear,  cus- 
tom is  the  first  to  be  mentioned.  Custom  is  a  somewhat  ripened 
phase  of  social  activity.  But  all  of  the  most  primitive  peoples 
that  we  know  are  already  thoroughly  imbedded  in  custom; 
and  it  is  from  this  stage  that  the  earliest  visible  social  progress 
sets  out.  Custom  has  been  teTrned^he^social^  pro^gpLisjnj" 
because  from  it  morality,  law,  and  religion  have  been  differen- 
tiated. A  passing  remark  must  suffice  us  here,  as  the  process 
of  their  differentiation  will  later  be  traced. 

Morality  is  in  origin  that  which  the  mores  prescribe.  It  is 
that  approved  course  of  action,  any  departure  from  which  is 
strange  and  abhorrent  to  the  common  feeling  of  the  group  and 
feared  for  its  possible  consequences.  The  portions  of  the 
requirements  of  mere  custom  which  become  differentiated  as 
-morality  are  those  which  group  judgment  based  upon  expe- 
rience and  reflection  combines  with  mere  group  emotion  to 
enforce. 

Laws  existed  long  before  there  were  legislatures ;  they  were 
the  customs  of  the  group  as  enforced  by  chieftains  or  other 
judges.  Even  now  statutory  or  enacted  law  is  only  one  por- 


VARIATION  IN  SOCIAL  ACTIVITIES  393 

tion  of  the  law.  The  "common  law"  is  simply  the  custom  of 
courts  which  is  treated  as  being  as  truly  law  as  statutory 
enactments. 

Religion  begins  as  the  customary  etiquette  and  ceremony 
of  dealing  with  the  unseen  powers  who  must  be  constantly 
propitiated.  It  is  sometimes  said  that  the  whole  life  of  the 
savage  becomes  a  ritual,  because  he  is  always  acting  as  in  the 
presence  of  powers  that  must  not  be  offended,  but  propitiated, 
and  there  is  a  proper  way  for  doing  everything  so  as  to  keep 
their  favor  and  all  other  ways  incur  their  wrath. 

Tlie  latent  power  of  custom.  Custom  is  present  and  power- 
ful even  when  no  one  is  performing  the  customary  act  or 
exhibiting  or  consciously  experiencing  the  customary  thought 
or  emotion.  We  have  our  marriage  customs,  not  alone  when 
there  is  a  wedding  in  progress.  Custom  is  always  ready  and 
waiting  for  the  occasion  to  call  it  forth,  into  the  foreground 
of  consciousness.  Thus  all  social  activities  can  exist  stored 
and  latent  in  memory,  as  well  as  in  active  consciousness.  Cus- 
tom may  even  exist  on  the  part  of  individuals  who  never  in 
their  lives  actually  fulfill  the  custom.  It  is  not  alone  those 
who  have  themselves  been  married  who  possess,  or  are  pos- 
sessed, by  our  marriage  customs.  This  illustrates  the  mean- 
ing of  that  part  of  our  definition  which  states  that  custom  is 
"the  idea"  of  an  action.  The  customs  and  institutions  of  a 
government  or  religion  may  exist  unimpaired  in  the  minds  of 
the  masses  even  though  the  functionaries  of  government  or 
religion  are  active  in  violation  of  the  customs;  and  at  such  a 
time  custom  is  likely  to  be  not  merely  latent  in  memory,  but 
aroused  and  active,  and  that  in  the -minds  of  those  who  never 
have  occasion  to  carry  the  customary  activity  into  execution, 
and  it  will  condemn  the  violation  of  it  and  demand  the  return 
of  obedience  to  it  on  the  part  of  its  proper  executors.  Yet 
custom  could  never  have  become  custom  unless  conformity  to 
it  on  the  part  ojf  those  to  whom  the  occasion  for  such  action 
was  presented  had  been  the  rule,  and  departure  from  it  the 
glaring  exception. 

These  facts  show  how  superficial  and  erroneous  is  *the 
ordinary  idea  that  custom  is  simply  prevalent  activity  in  the 


394  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

sense  of  overt  muscular  activity.  There  are  a  great  many 
prevalent  activities  which  are  not  customs,  and  a  custom  can 
exist  in  the  entire  absence  of  any  overt  manifestation  of  the 
customary  activity.  What  is  the  nature  of  this  tremendous 
thing  that  throughout  ages  has  held  mankind  like  living  beings 
imprisoned  in  an  atmosphere  but  slightly 'elastic,  the  power  of 
which  remains  latent  and  ready  during  the  intervals  when 
there  is  no  occasion  for  the  customary  act,  and  which  when 
occasion  for  execution  of  the  customary  act  presents  itself  to 
one  member  of  society,  springs  into  insistence  in  the  minds 
of  all  the  rest?  It  is  an  idea  of  a  certain  action,  and  the  idea 
can  exist  in  the  absence  of  the  action ;  it  is  an  idea  radiated 
by  suggestion  from  the  previous  prevalence  of  the  given  action ; 
it  is  expectation  that  the  given  action  will  be  carried  out  when 
the  occasion  for  it  arises,  and  this  expectation  can  exist  in 
the  absence  of  the  action;  it  is  an  emotional  preference  for 
the  familiar  activity,  and  repugnance  to  any  departure  from 
it,  and  the  repugnance  felt  when  the  custom  is  not  fulfilled  is 
even  stronger  than  the  feeling  of  fitness  and  satisfaction  when 
it  is  fulfilled ;  and  it  includes  as  one  element  the  overt  activities 
which  upon  occasion  give  expression  to  the  idea,  gratify  the 
preference,  and  meet  the  expectation. 

Custom  and  habit.  Custom  is  often  called  social  habit, 
but  this  is  only  a  figure  of  speech.  The  definitions  of  custom 
and  of  habit  show  them  to  be  totally  different  things.  The 
essential  thing  in  habit  is  a  modification  of  the  physical  organi- 
zation of  the  individual  due  to  the  repetition  of  a  given  activity. 
Custom  involves  nothing  of  the  sort.  We  have  marriage  cus- 
toms but  no  one  of  us  has  a  habit  of  being  married  in  any 
particular  way. 

However,  a  custom  may  lead  to  the  prevalence  of  a  habit. 
Thus  drinking  'habits  are  largely  due  to  social  customs.  More- 
over, if  we  may  speak  of  habits  of  thought  and  feeling,  then 
customs  in  general  may  establish  corresponding  habits,  the  cus- 
toms of  a  society  thus  intrenching  themselves  in  the  physical 
organisms  of  its  members  as  established  cerebroneural  tenden- 
cies' that  sometimes  seem  as  strong  as  inborn  instincts  and  may 
even  be  mistaken  for  instincts. 


VARIATION  IN  SOCIAL  ACTIVITIES  395 

(b)  FASHION.  Fashion  is  in  some  particulars  the  opposite 
of  custom.  Like  custom  it  is  characterized  by  emotional  atti- 
tudes (particular  overtones)  toward  a  more  or  less  prevalent 
activity,  but  they  are  the  opposite  emotional  attitudes.  The 
central  element  in  custom  is  preference  for  the  familiar;  the 
central  element  in  fashion  is  preference  for  the  novel.  It  is 
odd  but  true  that  opposites  may  excite  similar  emotions,  and 
among  the  most  far-reaching  tendencies  of  human  nature  are 
the  principle  of  familiarity  and  the  principle  of  novelty  as 
grounds  of  preference.  Only  old  activities  can  be  customary, 
only  new  or  renewed  activities  can  be  fashionable.  Custom 
requires  that  that  which  is  already  old  shall  continue.  Fashion 
demands  that  each  innovation  shall  soon  be  succeeded  by 
another  novelty.  Customs  continue  long  but  do  not  spread 
afar.  So  long  as  custom  reigns  each  province  has  its  own 
costume,  dialect,  and  modes  of  conduct.  Fashion,  on  the  other 
hand,  continues  only  a  brief  time  but  diffuses  itself  abroad. 
The  fashions  of  Paris  and  London  are  seen  in  North  Dakota, 
and  the  latest  song  of  Broadway  is  presently  sung,  and  the 
latest  slang  of  the  Bowery  talked  in  San  Francisco.  Thus^- 
customs  are  long  and  narrow  but  fashions  short  and*  wide. 
Or  to  change  the  figure :  custom  has  long  .roots  in  the  p_ast, 
and,  as  custom,  cannot  be  transplanted  but  endures^long 
in  its  native  place,  while  fashion  has  but  shallow  roots 
and  can  be  transplanted  with  ease  but  very  soon  withers 
away. 

"IF  is  not  only  the  pleasure  of  novelty  which  prompts  the 
rapid  changes  of  fashion.  With  reference  to  a  changeable 
fashion  people  of  the  same  society  at  the  same  time  will  differ 
and  such  differences  will  afford  a  superficial  mark  of  classifica- 
tion. Hence  a  class  that  desires  easy  distinction  will  adopt 
change  for  the  sake  of  the  distinction  secured.  And  if  this 
class  actually  has  prestige  and  if  other  classes  are  not  restrained 
from  imitation,  the  change  adopted  will  be  imitated  till  the 
distinction  is  obliterated  or  obscured,  and  the  same  motive  will 
then  prompt  the  adoption  of  a  new  change.  Hence  fashions 
must  rapidly  succeed  each  other  if  the  fashionable  are  to 
keep  ahead  of.  their  imitators.  Doubtless  this  succession  is, 

'  ~          " ' 


396  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

helped  on  by  business  people  who  profit  by  the  resulting  de- 
mand for  new  goods.  While  custom  includes  an  "overtone" 
of  expectation  and  desire  of  conformity,  fashion  with  the 
originators  and  leaders  of  fashion  contains  an  "overtone"  of 
desire  for  distinction.  The  tardy  followers  of  fashion  would 
in  time  convert  it  into  custom,  if  the  fashion-leaders  would 
leave  it  undisturbed. 

Sumptuary  laws  which  prescribe  modes  of  dress  and  the 
like,  were  due  to  the  desire  of  upper  classes  to  preserve  class 
distinction,  and  were  peculiarly  hateful  to  the  spirit  of  democ- 
racy. The  tendency  to  make  fashions  as  expensive  as  pos- 
sible is  largely  due  to  the  desire  to  make  it  difficult  for  the 
masses  to  imitate  them,  and  so  to  render  them  more  service- 
able as  marks  of  distinction.  That  tendency  is  also  due  to 
the  desire  to  display  wealth.  This  is  especially  the  case  in  an 
age  and  country  like  ours  at  the  present  period  of  its  develop- 
ment, in  which  success  is  largely  measured  by  wealth.  De- 
sire to  have  things  look  expensive  may  pervert  esthetic 
taste.1  Real  beauty  is  most  often  found  in  simple  lines. 
One  redeeming  feature  of  a  society  that  is  stratified  into  castes 
is  the  relief  from  pretense  and  from  the  struggle  to  seem 
to  belong  to  a  class  above  one's  own.  Struggle  to  rise  is  good 
provided  the  standard  of  success  is  reasonable,  but  evil  if  the 
standards  of  success  are  trivial  or  false. 

There  has  been  an  immense  decline  in  the  extravagance 
of  fashions  in  the  dress  of  men  since  the  era  of  ruff  and  puff 
and  slashings  and  toes  turned  up  towards  the  knees.  It  is  not 
merely  because  of  the  abolition  of  sumptuary  laws  and  the 
spread  of  the  spirit  of  democracy.  To  what  then  is  it  due? 
It  is  due  in  part  to  the  diffusion  of  wealth  and  the  ability  even 
of  laborers  to  wear  something  better  than  a  smock  frock. 
When  the  butcher  can  dress  in  velvet  the  lord  dresses  in  tweed 
and  golfing-cap.  After  that  why  should  the  butcher  continue 
to  buy  velvet?  It  is  due  much  more  to  the  fact  that  it  has 
become  the  custom  for  men  to  work,  and  the  business  suit  is  a 
universal  style,  while  formerly  the  aristocrat  must  every- 

1  Compare  Veblen :    Theory  of  the  Leisure  Class,  chap.  yi. 


VARIATION  IN  SOCIAL  ACTIVITIES  397 

where  display  by  his  attire  the  fact  that  he  did  not  have  to 
work.1 

Why  have  not  the  extravagances  of  fashion  in  the  dress 
of  women  similarly  abated  ?  Such  extravagance  is  as  natural 
to  the  cock  as  to  the  hen.  Men  were  not  always  outdone  by 
women  in  this  form  of  folly.  It  seems  to  be  largely  because 
well-to-do  women  are  still  an  idle  class.  Frequently  they  do 
not  even  care  for  their  own  children1,  if  they  have  any.  They 
are  without  any  occupation  that  is  worthy  of  them,  and  pre- 
sent a  pathetic  spectacle  and  a  terrific  waste  of  good  human 
powers,  their  lives  worn  out  with  care  of  servants,  social 
trifling,  and  hypochondria.  And  they  set  the  fashions  for 
poorer  women.  When  women  fully  discover  and  apply  them- 
selves to  the  real  interests  and  services  to  which  life  specially 
invites  them  we  may  see  less,  not  of  beauty,  but  of  rapid 
change  and  fantastic  extravagance,  in  their  dress.  There  will 
be  more  of  beauty  because  fashion  is  forced  more  or  less  to 
disregard  both  beauty  and  comfort  in  the  effort  to  secure , 
"distinction."  It  is  driven  to  fantastic  extremes  in  order  to 
make  the  fact  of  being  in  fashion  sufficiently  noticeable.  An- 
other reason  why  less  fashion  would  mean  more  beauty  is  that 
relative  permanence  of  tastes  in  dress  among  a  culture-people 
would  allow  time  for  the  development  and  diffusion  of  real 
esthetic  excellence.  The  economic  wastes  of  fashion  at  pres-' 
ent  are  enormous. 

Fashion  holds  sway  not  only  in  matters  of  dress  and  speech 
and  manners  and  amusements,  that  is,  in  externalities  and  mat- 
ters of  taste  and  whim,  but  also,  though  less  characteristically, 
in  matters  of  creed,  opinion,  and  conduct.  Whenever  those 
who  enjoy  social  prestige  adopt  any  new  belief  or  practice 
it  is  likely  to  be  imitated  as  fashion  in  dress  and  speech  are 
imitated,  without  any  rational  judgment  of  the  intrinsic  worth 
or  reasonableness,  of  the  model.  Such  imitation  directly  con- 
trasts with  that  to  be  discussed  under  the  next  head. 

1  Veblen :     Theory  of  the  Leisure  Class,  chap.  iii. 


CHAPTER   XXII 

MODES  OF  VARIATION  IN   SOCIAL  ACTIVITIES— RATION- 
ALIZED SOCIAL  ACTIVITIES 

Rational  Acceptance. — Customs  and  fashions  do  not  owe 
their  prevalence  to  reasoned  approval  by  the  individuals  among 
whom  they  prevail.  On  the  other  hand  a  prevalent  activity  has 
entered  upon  the  phase  of  rational  acceptance  when  its  preva- 
lence is  due  not,  as  is  the  case  with  fashion,  to  liking  for  nov- 
elty or  desire  for  class  distinction  nor,  as  is  the  case  with 
custom,  to  emotional  preference  for  the  familiar  and  to  social 
suggestion,  which  as  we  have  seen  operates  without  any  re- 
gard to  the  logical  quality  of  the  ideas  suggested,  but  when 
its  prevalence  is,  due  to  recognition  of  intrinsic  excellence  of 
the  activity. 

Certain  activities  that  have  prevailed  as  mere  fashions  or 
customs  may  stand  the  test  of  experience  and  reflection  and 
pass  into  the  phase  of  rational  acceptance.  Groups  with  in- 
jurious customs  tend  to  die  out  or  lose  prestige,  and  those  with 
beneficial  customs  tend  to  survive,  increase,  and  gain  in  pres- 
tige, so  that  there  is  a  natural  selection  among  customs  which 
secures  for  them  a  degree  of  fitness  without  necessarily  in- 
volving any  rationality  in  their  acceptance  by  those  among 
whom  they  prevail.  The  fact  that  a  customjs_bejieficial  does 
not  prove  that  it  has  passed  into  the  stage  of  rational  accept- 
ance any  more  than  the_harrnf ul  custom  which  survives 
beside  jt 

Tarde  called  all  acceptance  of  new  activity  "fashion-imita- 
tion," and  wrote  as  if  fashion  and  custom  were  the  only  phases 
of  social  activity.  In  this  respect  the  most  famous  discussion 
of  this  theme  is  in  error.  The  rational  adoption  of  a  new 
activity  because  of  its  intrinsic  excellence  is  quite  a  different 
thing  from  "fashion-imitation."  This  first  error  led  Tarde  to 

398 


RATIONALIZED  SOCIAL  ACTIVITIES  399 

the  second  error  of  announcing  it  as  "an  extra-logical  law  of 
imitation"  that  "imitation  proceeds  from  within  outward." 
This  means  that  doctrines  are  imitated  before  rites ;  ideas  are 
imitated  before  words,  phrases,  or  mannerisms ;  practical  aims 
are  imitated  before  the  mere  forms  of  conduct  by  which  aims 
are  sought  and  admiration  precedes  envy.1-  That  is  to  say, 
borrowers  seize  upon  the  solid  inner  worth  of  what  can  be 
borrowed,  instead  of  copying  external  expressions  and  man- 
nerisms. This  is  exactly  the  reverse  of  the  common  idea  that 
imitation  is  the  monkeyish  copying  of  externalities.  The  fact 
is  that  neither  the  common  idea  nor  that  of-  Tarde  is  a  whole 
truth;  imitation  may  be  either  ideomotor  and  monkeyish, jjj: 
vr_atiojial>  Tarde's  "law  of  imitation"  is  not  true  of  all  imita- 
tion. It  is  true  of  rational  acceptance.  Most  of  Tarde's  illus- 
trations of  his  principle  that  "imitation  proceeds  from  within 
outward,"  are  cases  of  inter-group  borrowing,  not  of  borrow- 
ing from  leaders  within  the  same  group.  Some  inter-group 
borrowing,  like  the  styles  that  issue  from  Paris  and  London, 
are  cases  of  mere  fashion-imitation,  but  the  more  impressive 
cases  of  this  sort  are  not  fashion-imitation  but  rational  accept- 
ance. The  fact  that  elements  of  solid  worth  in  the  activities 
of  a  people  have  power  to  set  up  new  currents  of  inter-group 
imitation  is  not  an  "extra-logical"  or  "non:logical"  law,  but 
the  contrary.  Instead  of  a  non-logical  law  of  fashion-imitation 
we  have  here  the  fact  of  rational  acceptance.  It  is  the  recog- 
nition, however  reluctant,  of  intrinsic  superiority  in  the  activi- 
ties of  another  group  that  has  power  to  crack  the  crust  of. 
custom  and  to  let  in  models  derived  from  another  population. 
We  must  recognize  both  in  inter-group  imitation  and  in  intra- 
group  imitation,  in  addition  to  fashion  and  custom,  a  third 
phase,  namely,  logical  or  rational  acceptance. 

The  facts  adducecTBy  Tarde  are  real,  though  the  universal- 
ity and  extra-logical  character  of  his  "law"  are  unreal.  Ra- 
tional acceptance  of  new  models  is  followed  by  fashion-imita- 
tion of  the  same  models,  provided  the  first  imitators  enjoy  such 
prestige  in  their  own  group  that  an  innovation  which  they  in- 

1  Gabriel  Tarde :  Laws  of  Imitation,  translated  by  Parsons,  Holt, 
1903,  pp.  199  seq.  fa 


400  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

troduce  for  that  reason  becomes  the  fashion.  When  the  king 
and  court  or  the  rich  and  traveled  rationally  imitate  a  foreign 
model,  that  'model  may  be  expected  to  become  the  fashion. 
After  leaders  capable  of  recognizing  real  excellence  have  ac- 
cepted the  inner  essence  of  foreign  models,  "in  the  spirit  of 
admiration  and  not  of  envy,"  later  the  rabble  may  imitate  the 
superficial  externals  of  the  same  model  in  the  spirit  of  mere 
fashion. 

Affinity  of  Certain  Kinds  of  Activity  for  Certain  Phases. — 
Social  activities  may  be  divided  into  three  classes,  which  in 
general  contrast  with  each  other  in  respect  to  the  phase  into 
which  they  most  readily  fall :  ( i )  tastes  and  distastes  or  likes 
and  dislikes  are  the  characteristic  field  of  fashion;  (2)  sciences 
and  the  practical  arts  for  the  manipulation  of  material  things 
are  most  amenable  to  logical  variation  and  rational  acceptance ; 
and  (3)  social  arts,  religious  creeds,  and  standards  of  ambition 
and  conduct  with  difficulty  escape  from  the  bonds  of  custom. 

The  non-logical  innovations  of  fashion  are  easiest  in  those 
activities  which  we  have  denominated  likes  and  dislikes  includ- 
ing economic  wants,  artistic  tastes,  likings  for  play  and  recrea- 
tion, and  tastes  for  etiquette  and  ceremony  because  in  these, 
feeling  is  the  chief  element,  and  they  are  regarded  as  less 
fundamentally  important  than  the  other  division  of  activities 
in  which  feeling  predominates,  namely,  the  standards  of  suc- 
cess and  approval.  The  latter,  though  they  are  largely  matters 
of  feeling,  are  not  willingly  allowed  to  be  matters  of  caprice 
or  easy  alteration,  because  they  are  the  springs  of  conduct 
and  there  is  dread  of  the  harm  that  might  result  from  change. 
Even  in  matters  of  taste,  however,  the  liking  for  novelty  is 
not  given  free  rein,  though  the  age  be  an  innovating  one,  but 
changes  in  ceremony,  amusements,  and  dress  are  often  dreaded 
and  repressed.  And  in  a  custom-bound  age  there  is  little 
tolerance  for  innovation  in  any  activities. 

The  activities  which  most  readily  find  rational  acceptance 
are  the  material  arts  and  the  sciences.  Rational  acceptance 
comes  first  of  all  in  those  practical  arts  which  deal  with  ma- 
terial things,  because  those  activities  are  subject  to  the  direct 
test  of  success  or  failure.  For  this  reason  their  choice  is  more 


RATIONALIZED  SOCIAL  ACTIVITIES  401 

a  matter  of  judgment  and  less  a  matter  of  mere  emotional 
preference  either  for  the  old  or  for  the  new.  Even  successful 
practical  arts  may  for  a  time  be  refused  by  the  power  of 
custom,  but  new  practical  arts  are  more -likely  than  any  other 
form  of  activity  to  be  the  first  to  break  down  the  power  of  cus- 
tom, because  their  superiority  to  the  old  can  be  demonstrated 
by  immediate  results.  If  many  new  practical  arts  are  rapidly 
introduced  then  a  general  preference  for  the  new  may  be  estab- 
lished as  a  competitor  with  the  general  preference  for  the 
customary.  We  then  get  an  age  of  innovation  in  which  men 
expect  to  find  excellence  in  the  "up  to  date,"  "the  latest."  But 
.it  must  be  borne  in  mind  that  an  innovating  age  is  a  great 
rarity  in  human  history.  Western  civilization  by  reason  of 
the  sudden  triumphs  of  applied  science  has  found  itself  in 
such  an  age. 

Perhaps  it  is  only  in  the  modern  Western  world  that  the 
crust  of  custom  has  been  broken  up  by  innovations  and  dis- 
coveries rising  from  within  a  society.  Custom  as  a  rule  has 
been  able  to  hold  down  the  initiative  of  a  people.  It  is  the 
inventions  of  foreigners  demonstrating  their  superiority  in  war 
or  commerce  or  literary  intercourse  that  has  usually  wrought 
the  change  in  those  rare  and  temporary  intervals  of  progress 
when  custom  has  given  way  to  innovation.  And  the  pro- 
gressiveness  of  our  own  civilization  is  due  not  alone  to  eman- 
cipated and  emancipating  sciences  and  their  practical  applica- 
tions, but  also  in  part  to  the  universal  travel  and  communica- 
tion which  tends  to  make  all  the  world  one  society,  brings  all 
ideas  into  competition,  and  in  the  sweeping  current  of  world 
life  refuses  to  let  the  provincial  stagnation  of  custom  settle 
down.  The  awakening  of  the  Orient  illustrates  the  more 
usual  method  of  the  liberation  of  a  people  from  the  incrusta- 
tion of  custom;  Japan  and  now  China,  convinced  by  the  ships 
and  tools  and  other  products  of  the  West,  enter  upon  an  inno- 
vating age.  In  the  earlier  stages  of  progress,  before  science 
was  able  by  its  wonders  to  convince  stubborn  custom  of  the 
superiority  of  the  new,  the  periods  of  progress  which  alternated 
with  far  longer  eras  of  relative  stagnation  resulted  mainly 
from  the  collision  of  groups. 


402  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

Science  is  to  be  classed  with  practical  arts  for  the  control 
of  material  things  as  constituting  the  characteristic  area  of 
logical  innovation.  This  is  because  science  is  the  exercise  of 
the  logical  faculties  and  the  fruits  of  their  exercise,  and 
especially  because  its  teachings  can  usually  be  subjected  to  the 
test  of  experiment.  Rational  acceptance  comes  earlier  in  the 
material  sciences  than  in  the  social  sciences,  because  in  the 
former,  hypotheses  can  more  often  be  tested  by  experiment 
(social  science  relies  largely  on  comparison  of  instances  to 
replace  experiment),  and  because  in  the  material  sciences 
prejudice  and  interest  are  less  opposed  to  progress  than  in 
the  social  sciences. 

Last  of  all  to  advance  to  the  stage  of  rational  acceptance 
or  rejection  and  so  to  yield  to  innovation  are  the  other  prov- 
inces of  belief,  the  ethical  sentiments  and  the  arts  of  social 
organization  and  control,  especially  law  and  religion  together 
with  all  the  subsidiary  beliefs,  standards  of  judgment,  and  arts 
upon  which  they  are  thought  most  directly  to  rest.  With 
activities  of  this  class  societies  dare  not  experiment  rashly, 
and  with  respect  to  them  above  all  others,  change  is  the  most 
stubbornly  resisted.  By  these  society  controls  the  conduct  of 
its  members;  their  power  to  control  men  rests  largely  upon 
the  veneration  with  which  they  are  regarded,  and  veneration  is 
weakened  by  changeableness  and  increased  by  permanence. 
Moreover,  the  control  of  conduct  is  society's  most  vital  and 
most  difficult  practical  problem,  with  which  rash  experiment 
is  therefore  most  dreaded.  To  tamper  with  the  achieved  order 
is  like  digging  at  the  dikes.  The  resistance  to  change  in  these 
props  of  social  order  may  be  thought  to  be  in  a  sense  rational, 
but  it  takes  the  form  of  resistance  to  rational  test  and  com- 
parison and  insistence  that  what  is  established  shall  be  kept, 
however  irrational  it  may  be,  merely  because  it  is  established. 
This  resistance  to  change  is  in  fact  caution  or  fear  dreading 
to  take  a  step,  and  often  resembles  the  child  with  shut  eyes 
standing  on  a  stone  in  the  brook  and  refusing  to  look  to  see 
how  near  the  shore  is  for  dread  of  taking  the  stride. 

We  may  note  one  apparent  exception  to  the  general  rule 
just  stated  that  practical  arts  and  science  are  first  to  yield  tQ 


RATIONALIZED  SOCIAL  ACTIVITIES  403 

rational  change  and  prepare  the  way  for  a  general  acceptance 
of  innovation.  Sometimes  it  has  been  literature  that  first  broke 
over  the  barriers  of  custom,  either  because  there  was  great 
superiority  of  one  people  over  another  in  literature  at  a  time 
when  there  was  no  such  great  advancement  in  science  or  in 
economic  arts  as  to  command  foreign  imitation;  or  because 
literature  appealed  to  a  class  that  had  prestige  enough  to  intro- 
duce innovations  while  the  higher  strata  of  society  took  little 
heed  of  technic  arts;  or  else  because  books  are  easily  trans- 
ported across  the  boundaries  that  separate  peoples;  or  for  a 
combination  of  these  reasons.  Such  an  instance  occurred  at 
the  time  of  the  renaissance  in  the  fifteenth  century  when  the 
poetry  of  Italy  invaded  other  European  lands,  and  again  when 
in  the  sixteenth  century  the  literature  of  Spain  invaded  France, 
and  once  more  when  in'  the  seventeenth  century,  through  the 
agency  of  Frederick  the  Great  and  his  court,  the  literature  of 
France  opened  the  way  for  French  fashions  in  Germany.1 
Literature  gives  guarantees  of  its  own  superiority  which  indeed 
are  far  less  convincing  to  the  minds  of  the  masses  than  those 
which  secure  the  acceptance  of  a  successful  practical  art,  but 
which  convince  with  sufficient  certainty  those  who  are  pre- 
pared to  appreciate  the  excellencies  of  literature.  And  when 
it  is  the  king  and  the  court  who  adopt  foreign  literature  and 
foreign  ways,  their  prestige  suffices  to  secure  the  adoption 
of  the  same  by  humble  folk.  Thus  aristocracies,  though  con- 
servative in  political,  religious,  and  economic  matters,  have 
repeatedly  served  the  cause  of  progress  by  the  introduction 
of  cultural  reforms. 

Culture  Peoples  and  Nature  Peoples.  —  A  society,  the  activi- 
ties of  which  as  a  whole  have  reached  the'  phase  of  rational 
acceptance,  maybe  designated  a  culture  people. 

According~to  Professor  Vierkandr^the  distinction  between 
"nature  people"  and  "culture  people"  is  more  fundamental  and 
important  than  the  common  division  between  the  savage,  the 
barbarous  and  the  civilized.  Nature  peoples,  says  that  writer, 
are  those  among  whom  the  development  and  permanence  of 
customs  is  a  matter  of  natural  causation  very  little  compli- 


1  Tarde  :     Laws  of  Imitation,  loc.  cit. 


/•J     <-,  * 


404  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

cated  by  any  element  of  design.  Each  rising  generation  adopts 
the  prevailing  beliefs,  sentiments,  and  practices  as  a  matter  of 
course. 

Even  after  the  process  of  social  evolution,  by  natural  reac- 
tions between  human  organisms  and  their  environment,  has 
developed  a  complex  civilization,  it  is  possible  for  the  indi- 
vidual to  be  a  nature  man  in  the  sense  defined,  wearing  such 
clothes,  speaking  such  language,  pursuing  such  a  calling,  hold- 
ing such  religious,  political,  and  ethical  ideas  and  sentiments  as 
his  social  contacts  have  afforded  him  and  as  he  has  uncritically 
imbibed.  The  familiar  figure  who  is  a  Republican  because  his 
father  was,  and  a  Presbyterian  because  his  mother  was,  and 
whose  whole  equipment  of  prejudices  has  been  acquired  as  a 
result  of  social  causes  and  not  of  intelligent  choice,  Professor 
Vierkandt  would  call  a  nature  man,  that  is,  a  product  of 
natural  causation. 

Culture  peoples,  the  same  authority  says,  are  those  who, 
haying  become  acquainted  with  a  number  of  models,  select 
their  ideas,  sentiments  and  practices  as  a  result  of  the  exer- 
cise of  free,  critical  intelligence.  Nature  peoples  adopt  their 
ideas,  sentiments  and  practices  because  of  causes ;  culture  peo- 
ples adopt  theirs  by  reason  of  reasons.  Being  affected  by 
causes  is  widely  different  from  being  influenced  by  reasons.  -^" 

Among  a  culture  people  not  only  do  individuals  become 
individuals  indeed  by  the  emancipation  of  their  activities  from 
non-logical  social  domination,  but  also  the  general  current  of 
social  progress  is  in  some  degree  understood  and  guided  by 
the  general  intelligence,  and  in  this  resembles  more  the  growth 
of  cultivated  fields  where  civilized  men  reap  harvests,  and 
less  the  wilcjs  in  which  savages  gather  roots  and  berries.  The 
process  is  no  less  natural  than  before,  but  the  individual  fac- 
tors have  become  so  evolved  that  they  as  well  as  the  mass 
factors  are  causally  significant,  the  idea  of  individual  freedom 
has  been  grasped  and  approved,  and  the  social  activities  have 
become  so  differentiated  that  variety  of  combination  in  indi- 
vidual consciousness  is  invited  and  new  structures  of  mass 
activity  are  no  longer  impracticable. 

Peoples  acquire  their  cultural  freedom  first  with  reference 


RATIONALIZED  SOCIAL  ACTIVITIES  405 

to  economic  arts,  and  next  with  reference  to  material  sciences 
in  the  order  already  discussed.  The  advanced  nations  of  to-day 
Vierkandt  describes  as  half-culture  peonies,  the  great  majority 
of  BieTr~population  being  still  nature  men  with  reference  to 
these  activities  in  which  rational  acceptance  is  more  tardily 
developed.  They  may  have  escaped  entirely  from  the  mytho- 
logical method  but  on  psychological,  social,  and  religious  sub- 
jects they  still  alternate  between  the  authoritative,  and  the 
systematizing  method. 

Although  there  is  as  yet  no  great  society  in  which  the 
population  as  a  whole  and  with  reference  to  their  activities 
as  a  whole  can  be  said  to  have  reached  the  stage  of  rational 
eclecticism  and  to  have  become  a  "culture  people,"  yet  there 
is  an  increasing  number  of  individuals  whose  lives  are  thus 
guided.  ^ 

Institutions. — An  institution  is  the  idea  of  a  set  of  overt 
activities  together  with  a  twofold  judgment  lodged  in  the 
popular  mind;  namely,  a  judgment  that  the  result  which  the 
institutionalized  activities  attain  is  necessary  or  greatly  to  be 
desired  and  that  the  given  activities  are  so  well  adapted  to 
securing  that  result  that  they  should  be  prized,  defended,  per- 
petuated and,  if  need  be,  enforced.  Of  course  the  overt 
practice  of  the  institutional  activities  upon  proper  occasions  is 
implied  in  this  definition ;  however,  the  institution  does  not 
cease  to  exist  in  the  intervals  between  the  occasions  of  its 
overt  exercise.  Briefly  and  with  perhaps  sufficient  accuracy 
for  most  purposes,  an  institution  is  a  set  of  activities  which  a 
society  adopts  as  its  deliberately  accepted  method  of  attaining  *•' 
a  deliberately  approved  end.  Often  institutionalized  activities 
require  a  special  personnel  for  their  execution,  and  most  writ- 
ers would  include  this  in  their  definition.  The  inclusion  or 
exclusion  of  this  element  in  the  definition  may  be  left  to  the 
reader.  We  must  call  to  mind  such  institutions  as  the  institu- 
tion of  private  property  and  of  monogamous  marriage  which 
prescribe  modes  of  activity  in  which  any  member  of  society 
may  engage,  only  insisting  that  if  he  does  engage  in  them  he 
should  follow  the  institutionalized  methods.  If  there  were 
any  fear  that  not  enough  would  engage  in  them  of  their  own 


4o6 


INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 


accord  society  might  appoint  a  special  personnel  for  the  execu- 
tion of  any  set  of  institutionalized  activities. 

Institutions  are  cornpound  social  activities  which  contain 
a  rational  erement,  as  customs  as  such  clo  not.1  Yet  a  people 
may  have  institutions  long  before  i!  reaches  the  stage  of 
rational  eclecticism;  that  is,  it  may  have  institutions  without 
having  rationally  chosen  its  institutions  from  among  a  variety 
of  conflicting  suggestions.  The  "age  of  discussion"  may  not 
have  dawned.  Institutions  have  most  often  and  most  typically 
developed  from  customs.  The  customs  were  formed  without 
rational  judgment  having  been  passed  upon  them  by  the  mass 
of  those  who  practiced  them.  But  at  length  the  mass  had  an 
intellectual  reaction  upon  their  customs  which  converted  some 
of  those  customs  into  institutions.2 

An  institution  shows  its  difference  from  a  mere  custom, 
in  that  variation  from  an  institution  is  opposed  not  merely 
because  of  emotional  preference  for  the  familiar  and  resent- 
ment against  the  strange,  but  because  of  a  practical  judgment 
of  the  utility  of  the  cherished  practice.  In  fact  while  custom 
insists  on  conformity  for  the  sake  of  conformity  and  resists 

1  Developing  the  figure  that  was  used  to  illustrate  custom  we  have : 


AN 

INSTI- 
TU-     •< 
TION 


m  Rational  approval  of  the  effects 
of  the  activities 

'Group  expectation 


I  Idea  of  specific  activities  radi- 
ated by  mass  suggestion 


•^•^^^^^•^^^•^^^^^^^•^^  Preference  for  the  familiar 

Rational  approval  of  the  spe- 

^ ^ m     cial  fitness  of  the  activities  to 

secure  the  approved  results 

All  these  elements  must  exist,  not  merely  in  the  minds  of  a  few,  but 
in  the  minds  of  the  many. 

'  Professor  Sumner  calls  mere  Qustoms  "folkways,"  .ajid  customs 
<fipop  which^asJstellectual  reaction  ofthe  griQUp^lia&lfiassed  deliberate 
"mores?'  a  word  ^which  has  the  samerooT^s~"rnor- 
als,"  "Folkwaysr*-  page~~3O.  However,  page  59,  foot,  he  quotes  with 
approval  another  author  in  applying  the  word  "mores"  to  mere  cus- 
toms, and  offers  this  usage  as  a  "more  exact  definition  of  the  mores." 
On  the  relation  between  institutions  and  mores  compare  pages  53 
and  56. 


RATIONALIZED  SOCIAL  ACTIVITIES  407 

all  change,  an  institution,  valuing  conformity  for  its  useful- 
ness, may  welcome  change  which  promises  to  enhance  its 
utility.  Therefore,  to  institutionalize  an  activity  which  has 
previously  prevailed  without  being  an  institution  may  be  to 
open  the  door  for  its  reconstruction.  The  formation  in  the 
public  mind  of  a  rational  judgment  concerning  the  prac- 
tical importance  of  a  set  of  activities  and  their  adaptation  to 
produce  desirable  results  may  prepare  for  the  intelligent  trans- 
formation of  those  activities.  Thus  such  judgments  as  would 
institutionalize  the  theater  1  in  America,  if  they  should  become 
prevalent  in  the  public  mind,  would  largely  transform  it. 

A  family,  a  school,  or  a  business  concern  may  have  its 
own  institutions,  but  in  practice  the  name  institution  refers  to 
the  activities  of  a  population,  with  the  same  implications  of 
extent  which  the  word  "population"  carries.  The  ilefinitioji 
of  a  population  as  a  number_of  people  who  occupy  the  same 
area,  or  are  together  in  time  and  space^applies  to  small  as 
well  asjto  large  groups.  There  is  no  precise  rule  b)PwKich  to 
determine  how  TargeTa  group  must  be  before  it  can  be  called 
a  population,  or  its  activities  can  be  called  institutions;  but 
usage  practically  confines  the  words  population  and  institution 
to  large  groups. 

Institutions  usually  receive  the  sanction  of  law  and  sover- 
eignty,  and  some  great  writers  define  an  institution  as  a  public 
activity  which  is  governmentally  sanctioned  and  maintained. 
But  when  we  study  the  origin  of  institutions  in  the  light  of 
the  practices  of  savage  and  barbarous  peoples,  it  does  not  ap- 
pear that  religion,  the  family,  or  the  institution  of  property 
owed  their  institutional  character  to  governmental  action; 
certainly  government  itself  did  not.  It  appears  rather  that 
the  institutions  had  independent  origin  and  were  institutions 
by  virtue  of  judgments  enacted  by  the  public  mind  and  not 

1  The  theater  is  a  taste  and  an  art,  but  it  has  not  universally  and 
distinctly  the  overtones  of  either  fashion  or  custom.  (  Adequate  intelli- 
gence would  make  it  an  institution.  That  does  not  necessarily  mean 
that  it  would  receive  governmental  support  any  more  than  the  church 
does  in  this  country ;  it  means  that  it  would  be  prized  and  controlled 
by  public  judgment  and  not  merely  by  a  taste,  and  that  public  taste 
would  be  deliberately  educated. 


4o8  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

by  legislators  or  rulers.  The  institutions  of  a  conquered 
people  may  survive  without  governmental  support  and  even 
in  spite  of  governmental  persecution ;  for  example,  the  Prot- 
estantism of  a  people  conquered  by  a  Catholic  invader,  or  the 
domestic  and  religious  institutions  of  an  Asiatic  dependency 
of  Great  Britain.  Apparently  the  institutions  of  a  people  have 
their  rise  independently  of  government,  and  their  power  to 
survive  without  the  aid  of  government;  the  relation  between 
government  and  the  other  institutions  of  a  people  is  merely 
one  of  correlation  such  as  must  exist  between  the  dominant 
factors  in  one  system  of  social  order.  It  is  just  as  true  that 
government  is  shaped  by  the  other  institutions  of  a  people 
as  that  the  other  institutions  are  shaped  by  the  government.1 
A  public  activity  becomes  an  institution  by  virtue  of  psychic 
elements,  overtones  contained  within  the  institutional  activity 
itself,  and  not  by  virtue  of  any  external  power  or  influence 
political  or  otherwise. 

It  is  not  necessary  that  all  of  the  population  having  an 
institution  should  engage  in  the  sociophysical  activities  that 
give  it  expression  and  effect ;  it  is  only  necessary  that  the  mass 
have  the  idea  of  this  overt  activity  together  with  a  rational 
judgment  of  its  utility,  as  above  described.  This  psychic 
activity  on  the  part  of  the  people  as  a  whole  together  with, 
but  even  more  than,  the  corresponding  overt  acts  performed 
when  occasion  demands,  is  the  institution.  Thus  it  is  that  the 
Pilgrims  in  the  Mayflower  could  bring  with  them  institutions 
which  on  the  Mayflower  were  not  in  exercise,  just  as  they 
brought  marriage  customs  which  were  not  then  in  exercise. 

Thus  it  is  that  political  institutions  are  the  possession  of 
all  free  citizens  and  not  of  the  rulers  alone,  while  the  tyranny 
of  a  conqueror  is  not  an  institution  of  the  conquered  and  the 
social  constitution  of  a  people  is  no  mere  written  document 
but  a  tough  and  gigantic  reality  existing  in  the  minds  of  the 

1  DeGreef  teaches  that  progress  in  the  development  of  political 
institutions  rests  causally  upon  progress  of  all  other  institutions,  much 
as  the  last  science  in  the  hierarchy  depends  upon  those  preceding.  In- 
troduction a  la  sociologie,  Riviere  et  Cie,  Paris,  1911,  tome  i,  chapitre 
vii. 


RATIONALIZED  SOCIAL  ACTIVITIES  409 

people.  Those  pyschic  realities  which  we  call  institutions  are 
to  society  what  sills  and  timbers  are  to  a  house,  or  what 
pillars,  trusses,  and  girders  of  steel  are  to  a  towering  office 
building.  There  is  this  difference,  that  they  are  alive,  like 
the  bones  of  a  man,  liable  indeed  to  disease,  decay,  disintegra- 
tion, but  capable  of  growth  and  change  without  destruction, 
though  not  without  pains,  and  only  as  they  grow  and  change 
can  they  escape  dry-rot  and  crumbling  ruin. 

Naturally  those  activities  first  become  institutionalized 
which  seem  to  the  people  concerned  to  have  the  greatest 
practical  importance.  The  most  conspicuous  varieties  ot£ 
institutions  are  five :  (i)  domestic  institutions^  (2)  religions 
institutions ;  (3)  economic  .institutions ;  (4)  governmental  in- 
stitutions ;  (5)  institutions  for  the  organization  of  public 
opinion  and  sentiment,  especially  the  school  and  the  press. 

This  is  far  from  meaning  that  all  political,  religious,  edu- 
cational, domestic,  or  economic  activity  is  institutional.  There 
are  for  example,  practices  of  ward  heelers  that  are  neither 
generally  prized  nor  generally  understood,  and  among  eco- 
nomic, religious,  domestic,  and  cultural  activities  there  is  much 
that  does  not  rise  to  institutional  dignity. 

Organization. — Most  institutional  activities  become  organ- 
ized, but  by  no  means  all  organizations  are  institutions ;  on 
the  contrary,  non-institutional  organizations  are  numberless. 
An  organization  is  a  set  of  differentiated  activities  serving _a 
common  purpose  and  so  correlated  that  the  effectiveness  of 
each  is  increased Jby  its  relation  to  the  rest. 

It  would  be  less  accurate  to  say  that  an  organization  is  a 
set  of  people  carrying  on  such  activities,  for  it  is  those 
activities  that  constitute  the  essence  of  the  organization;  the 
participation  of  each  person  in  the  activity  of  a  given  organi- 
zation is  ordinarily  a  small  fraction  of  his  activity  as  a  whole, 
and  a  definition  should  specify  just  what  is  included  in  the 
concept  defined,  neither  more  nor  less,  and  that  in  the  present 
case  is  just  the  particular  activities  which  are  intentionally 
correlated  in  the  service  of  a  single  aim.  It  is  true  the  activities 
could  not  exist  without  the  people,  and  for  that  very  reason  the 
thought  of  the  activities  sufficiently  includes  the  thought  of 


4io  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

the  people.     It  is  these  purposefully  correlated  activities  of 
the  people  that  constitute  the  fact  of  organization. 

The  concept  of  an  organization  includes  three  ideas,  (i) 
The  activities  united  must  be  different.  The  activities  of  a 
company  of  men  all  doing  the  same  thing,  rushing  against 
a  door,  pulling  a  rope,  or  yelling  without  a  leader,  cannot 
be  said  to  constitute  an  organization,  but  the  moment  one  of 
them  ceases  merely  to  do  as  the  rest  do  and  begins  to  direct 
the  efforts  of  the  others,  though  the  same  people  are  present, 
there  is  such  a  change  in  their  activities  that  organization  be- 
gins. The  change  consists  essentially  in  this,  that  differentiation 
and  correlation  of  activities  are  introduced.  (2)  ^Correlation 
is  the  second  element  in  organization,  such  correlation  that  the 
effectiveness  of  each  kind  of  activity  included  in  the  organiza- 
tion is  increased  by  its  relation  to  the  rest.  (3)  Third,  this  cor- 
relation and  heightened  efficiency  of  differentiated  activities 
must  be  in  the  service  of  a^  common  endL  Perhaps  the  simplest 
illustration  of  organization  is  the  work  of  two  men  lifting  a 
weight,  say,  a  stone  or  a  box.  Their  work  must  be  differen- 
tiated to  the  extent  that  they  take  hold  so  as  to  balance  the 
stone  and  then  one  signals  to  the  other  what  to  do,  if  only  by 
beginning  the  task  in  such  a  way  as  to  show  what  must  be  done 
in  order  to  cooperate.  A  higher  exemplification  of  organiza- 
tion is  shown  by  the  work  of  a  section  gang  and  its  boss  on  the 
railroad,  who  may  be  the  men  handling  the  stone,  and  a  still 
higher  one  if  we  see  the  work  of  the  section  gang  as  correlated 
with  that  of  the  track  inspector  and  all  the  officers  of  the  divi- 
sion of  "maintenance  of  way  and  structure"  and  the  work 
of  that  division  as  correlated  with  that  of  the  other  divisions 
of  the  "operating  department"  and  the  latter  with  the  "traffic 
department,"  the  "auditing  department,"  and  all  the  differ- 
entiated and  highly  correlated  activities  which  together  con- 
stitute a  railroad  organization.1 

1  EXERCISE:  Name  other  organizations  and  the  differentiated 
and  correlated  activities  of  which  they  are  composed. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 
*  NATURAL  SOCIAL  ORDER 

The  differentiation  and  correlation  of  social  activities 
which  make  them  into  one  organization  may  be  either  inten- 
tional, and  in  that  sense  artificial,  or  they  may  be  the  unde- 
signed result  of  natural  evolution.1  In  general  the  different 
activities  carried  on  by  the  same  population  become  so  corre- 
lated as  to  secure  in  some  imperfect  degree  the  ends  which 
they  may  have  in  common,  and  this  without  the  necessity  of 
any  plan  of  correlation,  simply  because  activities  that  conflict 
with  each  other  so  as  to  refuse  utterly  to  become  correlated 
tend  to  inhibit  and  exterminate  each  other,  and  irreconcilable 
activities  might  even  put  an  end  to  the  life  of  the  group. 

This  is  an  exemplification  of  a  universal  law  of  nature.    All 
phenomena  inorganic  and  organic  which  permanently  exist^ 
^  accommodated  ~tb  each  other,  each 


yielding  jwhat  it  must  to  the  rest,  and~establishing  a  more  or 
less  harmonious  status  quo  or  modus  vvuend'i.  This  is  inevita- 
ble, since  concomitants  affect  or  condition  each  other;  some 
being  affected  to  the  extreme  of  extermination  disappear,  those 
which  continue  together  being  so  modified  as  to  allow  the 
continuance  of  all  that  survive.  This  is  the  most  universal 
generalization  of  science,  continuation  is  secured  by  accom- 
modation and  correlation.  From  inorganic'  matter,  through 
all  the  forms  of  life,  including  the  social  process,  all  phe- 
nomena by  virtue  of  their  mutual  conditioning  tend  to  a 
correlation  which  is  the  method  of  the  continuance  of  such  as 
survive  or  remain.  Thus  the  activities  of  a  permanent  group 
tend  to  form  into  a  natural  system  before  they  reach  the 
institutional  stage  and  without  the  presence  of  any  "arts  of 
organization." 

alt  is   important   at  this   point  to   call  to  mind   the   facts   stated 
earlier,  under  the  heading  Accommodation,  p.  333. 

411 


412  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

The  distinction  between  artificial  organization  and  natural 
social  order  is  the  main  subject  of  discussion  in  Professor 
Tonnies'  Book  entitled  "Gemeinschaft  und  Gesellschaft," * 
words  quite  imperfectly  translated  "Community  and  Society." 
The  family,  according  to  Tonnies,  is  the  original  and  typical 
natural  social  unity,  and  next  the  expanded  family  or  clan. 
The  Gemeinschaft,  or  community,  he  says,  is  "real  and  or- 
ganic"; the  Gesellschaft,  or  society,  is  mechanical  and  op- 
tional: the  former  is  exclusive,  a  person  belonging  to  but 
one  family  or  natural  society  of  a  given  kind,  while  one  may 
enter  numerous  schools  or  corporations  or  other  artificial 
societies ;  the  former  is  ancient,  the  latter  are  recent ;  the 
former  permanent,  the  latter  evanescent;  the  former  natural 
and  undesigned,  the  latter  artificial. 

As  blind  customs  in  a  later  phase  of  development  change 
•into  self-conscious  and  judiciously  progressive  institutions, 
so  natural  social  order  tends  to  become  purposeful  organiza- 
tion, the  differentiation  of  activities  being  no  longer  wholly 
due  to  the  unplanned  reactions  of  human  organisms  to  their 
physical  and  social  environment,  nor  the  correlation  of  activi- 
ties due  to  mere  mutual  inhibition  and  natural  selection,  but 
to  intelligent  design. 

The  products  of  human  intention  and  of  artificial  selection 
are  grafted  on  to  the  natural  growth  of  undesigned  social 
causation.  But  even  the  members  of  the  most  advanced  of 
great  populations  carry  on  their  activities  in  a  completeness 
of  correlation  that  as  a  whole  is  undesigned  and  by  most  of 
the  associates  only  dimly  apprehended. 

By  the  aid  of  the  printing  press,  the  post,  and  the  tele- 
graph it  becomes  possible  to  form  into  one  self-conscious  and 
purposeful  organization  the  political  activities  of  a  population 
numbering  millions  and  spread  over  thousands  of  miles  of 
latitude  and  longitude.  The  most  statesman-like  minds  are 
able  with  some  degree  of  adequacy  to  grasp  as  correlated 
elements  in  a  single  organization,  not  only  the  political  activi- 
ties but  all  of  the  institutionalized  activities  of  such  a  popula- 
tion, economic,  religious,  cultural.  And  the  aim  of  science 

1  Leipzig,  1887, 


NATURAL  SOCIAL  ORDER  413- 

is  to  see  all  those,  together  with  the  mass  of  other  activities, 
not  institutionalized  but  prevalent,  which  are  interwoven  in 
the  streaming  process  of  a  people's  life,  in  their  interdepend- 
ence, so  that  the  direction  and  character  of  the  effect  produced 
by  each  upon  the  rest  can  be  approximately  known,  and  also 
the  way  in  which  each  in  its  turn  is  modified  by  all  the  rest. 
How  far  this  complex  totality  of  social  life  can  be  shaped  by 
design  can  be  known  only  by  first  learning  how  it  is  shaped  by 
nature  and  how  far  the  conditions  that  determine  its  natural 
course  are  subject  to  intelligent  control  by  man. 

Static  and  Dynamic. — In  the  science  of  physics  the  word 
"static"  is  used  to  describe  a  situation  in  which  there  is  no 
movement.  Such  a  situation  is  maintained  by  a  combination 
of  stresses  and  forces  which  are  in  equilibrium.  The  word 
dynamic  is  used  to  describe  a  situation  in  which  motion  takes 
place.  A  static  situation  may  be  transformed  into  a  dynamic 
situation  by  bringing  to  bear  a  new  force,  by  increasing  one 
of  the  forces  which  were  in  equilibrium  so  as  to  break  down 
resistance,  or  by  weakening  one  of  the  forces  or  stresses 
until  it  is  overcome  by  one  which  it  had  previously  held  in 
equilibrium.  Thus  a  static  situation  in  which  weight  is  sus- 
tained may  become  dynamic  by  the  addition  of  an  impetus 
from  without,  by  increase  of  the  weight,  or  by  diminution 
of  the  stress  which  had  upheld  the  weight.  The  earliest 
sociologists  borrowed  from  physics  the  terms  "static"  and 
"dynamic"  and  carried  the  comparison  between  social  and 
physical  phenomena  so  far  that  by  Comte  and  Quetelet  the 
phrase  "social  physics"  was  used  as  a  synonym  for  sociology. 
These  sociologists  employed  the  term  "static"  to  describe  a 
situation  of  established  or  stationary  social  order,  and  the 
problem  of  social  statics  was  to  point  out  the  conditions  which 
maintain  such  a  state  of  order.  The  term  "dynamic"  they 
used  to  describe  a  social  situation  which  was  undergoing 
progress  or  transformation,  and  the  problem  of  dynamic 
sociology  was  to  point  out  the  factors  or  conditions  which 
caused  these  social  changes. 

These  two  sets  of  problems  are  not  so  different  as  they 
may  at  first  appear,  because  the  same  kinds  of  conditions 


414  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

operate  in  both,  although  in  different  degrees  and  combi- 
nations. 

Moreover,  it  is  very  especially  to  be  noticed  that  even  a 
social  situation  which  is  described  as  static  is  composed  of 
nothing  stationary,  motionless,  rigid,  dead,  but  is  a  system 
of  activities.  This  is  contrary  to  the  natural  implication  of 
the  words  "dynamic"  and  "static,"  especially  when  we  remem- 
ber that  dynamic  means  revealing  the  presence  of  power. 
Social  activities  may  go  on  with  quite  as  much  power  when 
most  unchanging,  as  when  they  are  in  a  state  of  transition. 
In  a  static  situation  the  activities  of  a  people  are  regular  and 
constant.  They  consist  of  firm  beliefs,  generally  accepted 
judgments,  inviolate  customs,  and  established  institutions;  and 
the  tide  of  the  people's  life  may  flow  on  with  quite  as  much 
power  as  in  an  era  of  transition  which  would  be  described 
as  dynamic.  Indeed  as  in  physics  a  static  situation  may 
become  dynamic  by  weakening  a  support,  so  a  dynamic  era 
may  be  introduced  in  society  by  the  weakening  and  under- 
mining of  settled  beliefs,  the  breakdown  of  established  cus- 
toms, and  the  wavering  of  public  sentiments,  and  the  life 
of  the  people  may  not  regain  its  full  power  until  the  changes 
have  been  for  the  most  part  accomplished  and  society  is  ready 
to  enter  again  upon  an  era  of  established  order.  The  life  of 
society,  both  when  changing  and  when  most  constant,  is  a 
dynamic  phenomenon  in  the  sense  that  its  substance  is  power, 
it  is  activity,  it  is  life. 

The  problem  of  change  in  social  activities  and  in  the 
orderly  systems  into  which  they  unite  is  of  the  utmost  im- 
portance both  scientifically  and  practically,  for  it  is  the  prob- 
lem of  past  evolution  and  of  future  progress.  And  the  modes 
of  variation  in  social  phenomena  which  have  just  been  enumer- 
ated are  terms  in  this  process  of  social  change.  At  the  same 
time  the  "social  order"  above  described,  including  within 
itself  unplanned  customs,  institutions,  and  organizations,  to- 
gether with  the  engrafted  products  of  design,  is  the  biggest 
social  reality  that  we  can  contemplate ;  and  for  welfare,  order 
may  be  as  important  as  progress.  We  may  recall  that  the 
life  of  society  is  process,  both  in  its  being  and  in  its  becom- 


NATURAL  SOCIAL  ORDER  415 

ing.  The  words  "static"  and  "dynamic"  somewhat  obscure 
this  truth;  we  shall  not  employ  them,  but  define  their  use  in 
sociology  because  it  prevails  with  many  writers  and  has  done 
so  from  the  time  of  Comte.  The  static  and  dynamic  prob- 
lems, when  considered  from  the  viewpoint  of  practical  en- 
deavor, may  better  be  termed  the  problems  of  order  and  of 
progress. 

The  Radical  and  Conservative  Principles. — In  any  given 
social  situation  the  conditions  which  tend  to  strengthen  and 
maintain  the  existing  order  and  those  which  tend  to  induce 
change  are  set  in  contrast.  Among  the  conditions  which  uni- 
versally promote  or  hinder  the  modes  of  variation  just  enumer- 
ated, there  are  certain  traits  of  temperament  (psychophysical 
conditions)  which  are  believed  directly  to  promote  change 
while  others  conserve  stability.  The  bold  and  sanguine  tem- 
perament is  radical,  while  the  cautious  and  still  more  the  timid 
temperament  is  conservative.  The  active  katabolic  tempera- 
ment is  radical,  while  the  ease-loving  and  phlegmatic  tempera- 
ment is  conservative.  Further,  and  still  more  important,  the 
interests  of  those*  who  in  any  given  situation  find  themselves 
well  fixed  prompt  them  to  exert  themselves  to  keep  the  situa- 
tion fixed  as  it  is,  while  the  discontented  classes  are  prone  to 
desire  change  sometimes  for  the  mere  sake  of  change;  that 
is,  without  due  regard  to  the  question  whether  the  change 
gives  reasonable  promise  of  improvement  or  is  mere  destruc- 
tion. These  differences  of  interest  are  at  bottom  mainly  dif- 
ferences in  the  distribution  of  wealth  or  of  honor  and  op- 
portunity; that  is,  in  the  technic  or  social  conditions,  which 
society  has  itself  produced  and  which  society  may  change. 
These  qualities  of  temperament  and  interest  together  consti- 
tute what  are  called  the  principles  of  radicalism  and  conserva- 
tism which  are  continually  at  war  in  society.  They  are,  how- 
ever, nothing  more  nor  less  than  conditions  of  activity,  physio- 
logical, technic,  or  social,  which  regularly  tend  in  the  one 
case  to  induce  change,  in  the  other  to  resist  it. 

The  phases  of  social  activity  are  to  be  contrasted  in  this 
connection.  Fashion  and  rational  acceptance  are  phases  of 
activity  which  are  favorable,  to  change;  while  custom  and 


416  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

.^•institution  are  phases  of  activity  which  resist  change  and 
)  preserve  order.  Both  social  change  and  permanence  have  their 
/  logical  and  non-logical  phases.  Fashion  is  emotional  or  non- 
^  logical  change  and  logical  acceptance  of  innovation  in  reasoned 
change.  Custom  is  emotional  or  non-logical  stability  and  order, 
while  institutions  are  logical  stability  and  order.  Social  wel- 
fare implies  less  of  the  unreasoning  rigidity  of  custom  and 
more  of  the  stable  but  not  inflexible  order  of  institutions  and 
organizations,  together  with  less  of  the  wasteful  and  destruc- 
tive variations  of  fashion  and  far  more  of  logical  acceptance 
,of  innovation. 

Since  the  well-fixed — the  rich  and  the  powerful — tend  to 
conservatism,  conservatism  has  advantage  over  radicalism  in 
power.  The  rich,  the  influential,  those  who  mold  opinion  and 
enjoy  prestige,  who  now  own  great  newspapers  and  who 
.once  commanded  armed  retainers,  are  mostly  conservative. 
"The  respectable  classes"  have  usually  been  conservative, 
and  in  general  it  has  been  decidedly  "bad  form"  to  be  other- 
wise. 

Persons  affected  by  the  contrasting  conditions  of  tempera- 
ment and  interest  which  produce  conservatism  and  progressive- 
ness  are  as  a  rule  more  or  less  uncongenial  to  each  other. 
But  it  should  be  remembered  that  radicalism  and  conservatism 
are  in  themselves  equally  mere  natural  consequences  of 
causes,  and  one  may  be  just  as  moral  or  non-moral  as  the 
other;  and  also  that  the  conservative  principle  is  as  necessary 
to  society  as  friction  and  gravity  to  a  locomotive,  which  must 
indeed  have  steam  or  it  will  not  run,  but  which  without  gravity 
will  fly  the  track  at  the  first  curve,  while  without  friction  its 
wheels  would  fly  around  without  moving  the  engine  forward 
a  foot.  There  is  no  advantage  in  change  merely  as  change, 
and  while  "we  can  have  order  without  progress  we  cannot 
have  progress  without  order."  There  is,  however,  a  vicarious 
radicalism  which  is  worthy  of  honor  and  admiration;  it  is 
the  interest  of  the  well-to-do  in  bettering  the  condition  of  the 
less  fortunate,  the  fidelity  of  the  individual  to  his  group,  and 
the  interest  of  those  who  live  in  the  present  in  preparing  a 
happier  future  for  those  who  come  after  them;  it  is  the 


NATURAL  SOCIAL  ORDER  417 

public  spirit  that  is  loyal  to  the  cooperative  enterprise  of 
progress. 

Up  to  this  point  we  have  had  a  great  deal  to  say  about 
social  activities,  about  the  conditions  by  which  they  are 
molded,  the  elements  into  which  they  may  be  analyzed,  the 
kinds  into  which  they  may  be  classified,  the  variations  to 
which  they  are  subject  and  the  accommodations  and  correla- 
tions which  are  established  among  them,  but  as  yet  we  have 
not  asked  and  answered  the  question :  What  is  a  sgciety  ?  It 
would  have  been  impracticable  at  the  start  to  give  to  that 
question  an  answer  that  would  have  added  much  to  our 
knowledge,  but  we  are  now  ready  to  attack  it. 

The  First  Characteristic  of  a  Society .-^-The  first  Character- 
istic of  'a  society  is  that^  its  members  have  some  important 
activity  in  common  such  as  a.  common  language,  a  common 
"creed,  j)r  some  common  practjcal_^im  an5"common  activities 
by  which  their  common  aim  is  pursued.  It  is  sometimes*  said 
that  limong  a  company  of  savages  the  similarity  of  activities 
goes  so  far  that  there  are  practically  no  variations  except 
those  directly  due  to  bodily  differences.  Some  of  the  clan 
are  men,  some  are  women)  some  old,  some  in  their  prime, 
and  some  children,  some  more  and  some  less  endowed  with 
cunning  and  strength;  but  save  as  these  bodily  differences 
cause  divergences  their  activities  are  alike,  they  have  the  same 
superstitions,  the  same  prejudices  and  enmities,  the  same  de- 
sires, the  same  practices,  their  otreamc  of -consciousness  i3t  ***• 
composed  of  similar  elements ;  notwithstanding  these  elemental 
activities  may  be  very  different  from  those  prevailing  among 
any  other  race  of  savages.  Each  child  born  into  the  clan,  as 
it  grows  up,  inevitably  acquires  the  beliefs,  desires,  and  prac- 
tices of  the  group.  Thus  Professor  Fairbanks  defined  a 
society  as  "a  group  of  persons  sharing  a  common  life." 

In  a  highly  developed  nation  there  are  different  creeds 
seeking  adherents  and  different  sentiments  radiating  from 
old  to  young  and  from  leaders  to  followers,  and  there  is  no 
complete  uniformity  of  activities  among  its  members,  but  the 
members  of  every  society  have  some  mode  of  activity  in  com- 
mon; otherwise  they  would  not  be  a  society  at  all. 


418  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

In  an  advanced  civilization  each  individual  may  belong 
to  many  societies.  And  while  a  great  population,  like  that 
of  the  United  States,  is  unified  into  one  society  by  some  com- 
mon interests  or  sentiments  or  ideas,  it  is  also  subdivided  into 
many  minor  ones.  Each  individual  member  could  probably 
find  upon  examination  that  those  of  his  ideas,  sentiments,  or 
practices  which  he  does  not  share  with  the  entire  population 
he  does  nevertheless  share  with  a  considerable  number  of 
other  persons  so  that  while  he  held  certain  sentiments  and 
interests  in  common  with  all  the  citizens  of  this  great  republic 
with  whom  he  forms  one  vast  society,  he  also  held  other  ideas 
and  practices  which  he  shared  only  with  other  Methodists 
or -other  Republicans,  with  whom  he  was  united  into  other 
and  smaller  societies;  that  in  fact  he  belonged  to  numerous 
societies  each  characterized  by  some  common  activities,  down 
to  the  choral  union,  or  Browning  club,  or  Turnverein. 

The  Second  Characteristic  of  a  Society. — The  second  char- 
acteristic'of  a  society  is  that  the  activities  of  its  members 
causally "c^ndidon_ea£hother-  The  similarity  of  their  activi- 
ties is  not  due  merely  to  the  inherent  tendencies  of  human 
nature.  A  comparative  study  of  different  societies  reveals 
the  fact  that  despite  the  kinship  of  all  mankind  which  makes 
"human  nature  much  the  same  the  world  over,"  the  beliefs, 
the  tastes,  sentiments,  moral  standards,  and  practical  arts  of 
different  peoples  vary  as  widely  as  different  species  of  animals 
and  plants.  This  is  because  the  different  tribes  of  man  have 
had  different  social  evolution  and  so  have  developed  different 
languages,  superstitions,  creeds,  tastes,  wants,  ambitions,  and 
moral  codes  which  each  tribe  confers  upon  its  own  members. 
Thus  the  similarities  which  prevail  among  people  of  the  same 
group  are  mainly  due  to  the  effect  produced  by  the  members  of 
the  group  upon  each  other.  Each  generation  passes  on  its 
own  type  of  social  life  to  its  successors,  though  modified  by 
a  gradual  process  of  evolution.  Not  merely  are  we  all  molded 
during  the  "plastic"  years  of  childhood,  but  throughout  life 
our  activities  are  repressed  or  elicited  or  directed  by  the  past, 
present,  and  anticipated  activities  of  our  associates.  A  society 
is  bound  together  not  only  by  the  relation  of  similarity  but 


NATURAL  SOCIAL  ORDER  419 

also  by  the  causal  relation.  The  unraveling  of  the  social 
causation  in  which  the  activities  of  associates  mutually  condi- 
tion each  other  is  a  main  task  of  sociology. 

The  Third  Characteristic  of  a  Society. — The  third  charac- 
teristic _pf.  a  society  is  intercommunication.  It  might  have 
been  called  the  first  characteristic  for  upon  it  depends  the 
mutual  causation  of  social  activities,  and  upon  their  mutual 
causation  depends  their  similarity.  Yet  by  itself  communica- 
tion reveals  less  than  either  of  the  others,  the  essential  nature 
of  society;  it  might  perhaps  even  be  omitted  as  having  been 
already  sufficiently  implied  in  "mutual  causation."  The  men- 
tion of  a  third  item,  however,  enables  us  to  see  how  the  three 
characteristics  of  a  society  correspond  to  the  three  characteris- 
tics of  social  activity,  thus: 

The  characteristics  of  social  The   characteristics    of   so- 

activity  are:  ciety  are: 

Manifestation  Intercommunication 

Social   causation  Mutual  causation 

Prevalence  Similarity  of  Activities 

By  intercommunication  the  activities  of  one  member  of 
society  are  known  to  others,  those  of  some  prominent  leaders 
are  known  to  many,  those  of  the  obscure  are  known  to  a  few, 
the  activities  of  each  are  known  to  some,  though  perhaps 
those  of  none  are  known  to  all ;  acquaintance  radiates  from 
each  to  others,  and  from  each  of  those  to  others  still,  mak- 
ing a  network  of  intercommunication.  In  small  societies 
the  line  of  acquaintance  may  pass  back  and  forth  in  both 
directions  from  each  to  each,  each  knowing  and  being  known 
by  all.  In  a  larger  society  the  prominent  are  known  to  many 
whom  they  do  not  know.  By  communication  all  the  mem- 
bers of  a  society  are  wrought  into  a  unity,  notwithstanding 
that,  as  a  rule,  each  communicates  with  but  a  small  fraction 
of  the  rest,  as  a  coat  of  chain  mail  is  a  unity  though  each  link 
is  locked  with  but  few  other  links. 

Population  and  Society. — The  condition  most  favorable  to 
communication  or  knowledge  of  another's  activities  exists 


420  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

when  associates  are  together  in  time  and  space.  Yet  mere 
togetherness  in  time  and  space  is  not  of  itself  enough  to  make 
the  people  who  are  together  a  society;  it  is  only  a  condition 
favorable'  to  the  existence  of  society  and  not  the  essence  of 
society.  The  essence  of  society  is  common,  correlated,  and 
mutually  conditioning  activity.  A  citizen  of  New  York  or 
Boston  may  be  in  closer  association  with  the  members  of  the 
same  scientific  or  business  circle  who  reside  in  Berlin,  Paris 
or  London  than  with  his  neighbors  two  blocks  away  in  the 
Ghetto  or  little  Italy.  If  a  Turk,  a  Zulu,  a  Hindoo,  a  Negrito, 
a  Parisian,  and  other  previously  unrelated  people  could  sud- 
denly be  assembled  in  one  place  at  a  world's  fair,  or  on  an 
ocean  liner,  they  would  not  at  first  be  a  society,  although  they 
might  in  time  become  one.  If  by  the  waving  of  a  magic  wand 
some  existing  society  could  suddenly  be  transformed  like  the 
people  at  Babel  so  that  they  should  have  no  common  language, 
no  common  ideas,  beliefs,  desires  or  practices,  derived  from 
a  common  social  past,  then  mere  togetherness  in  space  and  time 
would  not  make  them  a  society,  though  if  they  remained  to- 
gether they  might  in  time  once  more  become  one. 

It  is  necessary  to  emphasize  this  because  many  writers  have 
thought  that  grouping  in  space  and  time  was  the  very  essence 
of  society,  instead  of  being  merely  a  condition  favorable  to 
the  establishment  and  maintenance  of  society.  People  who 
are  together  in  space  and  time  constitute  a  population.  We 
might  perhaps  as  properly  speak  of  the  population  of  a  room 
as  of  a  country,  though  we  commonly  reserve  the  word  to 
designate  a  large  number  who  are  permanently  together  in 
space  and  time.  A  permanent  population  will  become  a  so- 
ciety, for  togetherness  in  space  and  time  is  a  condition  as 
favorable  to  associative  activity  as  milk  is  to  the  growth  of 
bacteria.  Milk  and  bacteria  are  not  the  same  thing;  it  is  con- 
ceivable that  milk  should  remain  without  bacteria.  In  fact 
some  milk  in  Paris,  which  was  drawn  and  bottled  under  the 
direction  of  Pasteur,  is  said  to  be  still  sweet  after  the  lapse 
of  many  years.  But  just  as  the  conditions  must  be  very 
unusual  indeed  to  prevent  milk  from  swarming  with  bacteria 
after  a  few  hours,  so  must  they  be  very  unusual  indeed  to 


NATURAL  SOCIAL  ORDER  421 

prevent  people  who  afe  together  from  engaging  in  social  activi- 
ties and  so  becoming  a  society,  for  presence  is  the  culture  con- 
dition of  society. 

The  fact  that  togetherness  in  space  and  time  is  only  the 
condition  favorable  to  society  and  not  of  the  essence  of  society 
itself  is  clear  enough  after  we  get  an  adequate  conception  of 
what  society  really  is;  it  is  only  by  way  of  a  help  toward 
this  adequate  conception  that  we  have  pointed  out  the  fact 
that  such  togetherness  may  conceivably  exist  for  a  time  with- 
out generating  a  society.  To  this  we  may  even  add  the  fact 
that  society  may  continue  without  such  togetherness.  The 
society  of  letters  is  more  than  a  figure  of  speech,  and  it  is 
not  conditioned  by  space,  and  hardly  by  time.  Professor  Tarde 
says  that  a  Frenchman  at  the  antipodes  is  a  Frenchman  still. 
His  daily  thoughts  are  products  of  a  French  past,  and  if  the 
mails  bear  him  papers  and  letters  and  return  his  own  mes- 
sages he  is  still  influenced  by  French  life  and  may  himself 
be  a  force  in  French  society  of  which  perhaps  he  is  a  consul 
or  ambassador.  Professor  Cooley  reminds  us  that  the  modern 
school  boy  is  under  the  influence  of  Caesar  and  Cicero.  Ap- 
parently he  would  say  that  Aristotle  and  the  apostles  and  Jesus 
of  Nazareth  are  still  members  of  society.  And  he  teaches  that 
so  long  as  the  idea  of  a  man's  activities,  thoughts,  and  senti- 
ments are  present  to  the  minds  of  others  that  man  is  still  an 
associate.  Since  the  dead  influence  us.  without  being  in- 
fluenced in  return,  they  present  at  most  an  extreme  and  imper- 
fect instance  of  association;  but  the  mails,  the  telegraph,  and 
the  telephone  daily  illustrate  that  intercommunication,  not 
presence,  is  the  essential  condition  of  association.  Before  their 
invention  society  might  indeed  be  practically  limited  to  spatial 
presence,  but  by  their  aid  a  nation  stretching  three  thousand 
miles  across  a  continent  can  be  one  society. 

After  all,  however,  society  does  ordinarily  imply  popula- 
tion, which  is  as  much  as  to  say  that  communication  is  far 
more  effective  within  comparatively  close  relations  of  space 
and  time.  Yet  if  dwellers  of  the  same  tenement  always  knew 
each  other  and  peoples  only  a  block  away  were  never  socially 
remote  and  presence  in  space  and  time  always  resulted  in 


422  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY  ' 

effective  communication,  still  presence  would  not  be  the  same 
thing  as  communication,  still  less  would  population  be  the 
same  thing  as  society.  Presence  or  spatial  grouping  is  a  visi- 
ble and  conspicuous  accompaniment  of  society,  while  the 
social  phenomena  themselves  are  psychic  realities  in  a  measure 
hidden  from  direct  observation.  And  in  thinking  we  practice 
a  kind  of  metonomy,  seizing  upon  some  conspicuous  trait 
or  accompaniment  of  the  given  reality,  which  we  keep  in 
mind  as  its  symbol,  and  we  conceive  of  the  reality  by  this 
symbol.  Thus  it  is  that  to  common-sense  society  becomes 
practically  a  group  of  people  who  are  together  in  time  and 
space,  a  population ;  but  science  must  perceive  that  this  togeth- 
erness, though  a  usual  accompaniment  of  society,  is  only  the 
condition  most  favorable  to  communication;  and  it  is  inter- 
communication that  is  the  primary,  rudimentary  character- 
istic of  society,  from  which  the  others  follow. 

Nature  of  the  Social  Unity. — The  essential  unity  of  society 
consists  in  common,  correlated,  mutually  conditioning  activi- 
ties.1 The  people  who  compose  a  society  are  the  people  who 
carry  on  such  and  such  activities  and  affect  each  other's  activ- 
ity in  such  and  such  ways.  Indeed  we  shall  think  of  society 
most  truly  if  we  put  the  activities  rather  than  the  people 
foremost  in  our  attention.  For  example,  we  shall  form 
a  truer  notion  of  a  Browning  society  maintained  by  four  ladies 
if  we  think,  not  primarily  of  the  four  ladies  in  all  the  interest- 
ing multiplicity  of  their  activities,  but  rather  of  the  particular 
activities  which  those  ladies  carry  on  as  a  Browning  society. 
To  say  Mrs.  Smith  plus  Mrs.  Brown  plus  Mrs.  Jones  plus 
Mrs.  Clark  equal  the  Browning  society  would  be  extremely 
inaccurate.  There  is  vastly  more  to  Mrs.  Smith  than  her  par- 
ticipation in  the  Browning  society.  A  small  fraction  of  the 
activity  of  Mrs.  Smith  and  similar  fractions  of  that  of  the  other 
ladies  by  communication  combine  and  also  direct  and  elicit 
each  other,  and  these  particular  fragments  of  activity  thus 
uniting  make  the  life  of  the  Browning  society.  Correlated 
activities,  sentiments,  and  beliefs  are  the  essence  of  every 
society. 

1  We  must  not  forget  that  "activities"  include  ideas  and  sentiments. 


NATURAL  SOCIAL  ORDER  423 

But  can  a  society  be  a  true  unity  ?  There  is  no  phenomenon, 
that  is,  nothing  that  appears  to  human  observation  which  is  a 
unity  without  parts.  Even  an  atom,  we  now  are  told,  is  a 
kind  of  miniature  solar  system.  Unities  are  combinations 
that  naturally  hang  together  and  are  naturally  distinct  from 
the  rest  of  the  world.  Relationship  is  the  only  bond  of 
union  anywhere  observable  in  nature.  Most  relationships  are 
limited,  and  where  they  stop  the  unities  which  they  form 
terminate.  The  boundary  which  shuts  off  one  unity  from  all 
others  is  the  termination  of  the  relation  by  which  the  unity 
is  bound  together.  For  a  relation  that  binds  parts  together 
at  the  same  time  separates  them  from  whatever  does  not 
share  the  relation.  Relationships  are  real  phenomena  and 
.  are  among  the  most  important  phenomena  both  scientifically 
and  practically.  And  what  seems  to  us  to  be  physical  con- 
tiguity is  not  the  only,  or  necessarily  the  most  important,  kind 
of  relation  for  the  formation  of  a  unity.  The  solar  system 
is  as  true  a  unity  as  the  agglomeration  of  molecules  which 
we  call  a  pebble.  Failure  to  apprehend  that  the  only  kind 
of  unity  we  know  is  unity  of  interrelationship  has  led  some 
to  object  that  the  supposed  unity  of  a  society  is  only  a  crea- 
tion of  the  sociologist's  mind.  Such  objectors  tell  us  that  there 
can  be  no  real  objective  psychic  unity  of  society  unless  there 
is  some  single  consciousness,  a  social  mind  or  oversoul  which 
thinks  the  common  thoughts  and  entertains  the  common  senti- 
ments and  puts  forth  the  common  efforts.  This  is  as  if  a  ; 
blind  man  standing  on  the  curbstone  and  hearing  others  speak  > 
of  the  unity  of  a  passing  company  of  soldiers  should  say,  ^ 
"What  you  call  the  unity  of  that  marching  body  is  a  figment 
of  your  imagination.  There  can  be  no  such  unity  unless 
there  is  one  colossal  pair  of  legs  to  do  the  marching."  "The 
social  mind,"  although  as  a  figure  of  speech  it  may  stand 
for  an  objective  reality,  as  a  literal  expression  has  no  more 
meaning  than  the  "colossal  pair  of  legs,"  just  mentioned.  But 
without  any  such  literal  social  mind,  the  unity  of  a  society  is  ** 
as  real  a  fact  as  the  unity  of  the  marching  company.  The 
psychic  unity  of  many  in  a  society  integrated  by  community 
of  thought,  sentiment,  and  action,  is  incomparably  richer  in 


424  '  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

content  than  the  unity  of  a  marching  body  of  soldiers,  and 
it  is  bound  together  and  separated  from  the  rest  of  the 
world,  not  only  by  this  rich  interrelationship  of  similarity  in 
its  psychic  activities,  but  also  by  relationships  of  mutual 
causation  among  its  activities.  Intercommunication,  as  we 
saw,  creates  a  unity  like  that  of  a  coat  of  chain  mail, 
but  unlike  the  coat  of  mail  it  is  a  living  unity  and  it 
grows  link  by  link ;  the  links  are  interlocking  sentiments, 
ideas,  and  activities  which  are  made  possible  to  each  asso- 
ciate by  the  fact  of  association  with  the  other  members 
of  society.  ^- 

Kinds  of  Societies. — The  kind  of_society  corresponds  to  the 
-kind  of^commoji  activity  "By  which  its  members  are  united. 
Probably  no  two  species  of  social  activity  are  participated  in 
by  exactly  the  same  persons.  The  persons  who  speak  the 
English  language  are  not  all  Protestants  nor  all  Catholics  nor 
all  Republicans  in  the  American  sense  nor  all  Liberals  in  the 
English  sense,  still  less  are  they  all  Anglicans  or  Presbyterians 
or  Congregationalists  or  members  of  the  consolidated  mine- 
workers'  union.  Even  the  citizens  of  the  United  States  who 
are  united  by  certain  common  civic  rights  and  political  inter- 
ests and  sentiments  are  also  subdivided  into  many  societies, 
classes,  sects,  and  parties.  The  wealthy,  scientific,  and  artistic 
American  cosmopolite  does  indeed  belong  to  the  same  po- 
litical society  with  the  humblest  dweller  in  the  slums,  but  the 
humbler  dweller  in  the  tenements  may  belong  to  a  trade 
union  which  is  a  society  to  which  the  cosmopolite  does  not 
belong,  and  to  a  political  party  which  is  a  society  to  which 
the  cosmopolite  does  not  belong,  and  to  a  church  which  is 
a  society  to  which  the  cosmopolite  does  not  belong,  while 
the  cosmopolite  may  belong  to  numerous  societies  from' 
which  his  fellow  citizen  of  the  tenements  is  excluded 
and  of  which  some  are  made  up  of  select  individuals  from 
many  nations. 

The  citizens  of  a  state,  though  composing  one  political 
society,  are  at  the  same  time  divided  into  many  mutually  ex- 
clusive societies  great  and  small,  some  wholly  within  the 
membership  of  the  state,  others  overlapping  the  boundaries  of 

/>•  t/  i 

r/*^iS\;      «J£<    \  <~  i./ 


NATURAL  SOCIAL  ORDER  425 

the  state  and  drawing  members  from  various  states.1  It  is 
clear  then  that  such  societies  are  not  political  phenomena 
that  can  be  included  as  functional  groups  within  the  state; 
on  the  contrary  states  are  only  one  kind  of  societies,  a  vastly 
important  and  imposing  kind,  but  no  more  the  only  kind 
than  trees  are  the  only  plants.  There  can  be  as  many  kinds 
of  societies  as-  there  are  species  of  prevalent  activity  capable 
of  uniting  the  body  of  people  among  whom  they  prevail,  and 
differentiating  them  from  others  among  whom  they  do  not 
prevail,  of  uniting  them  not  only  by  similarity  into  a  class, 
but  also  by  the  mutual  conditioning  of  their  similar  and  com- 
municating a'ctivities,  into  a  society. 

Societies  then  are  differentiated  according  to  the-  chara^r 
ter  of  the  common  activities  by  which  they  are  united.  The 
most  important  societies  are: 

1.  Families.     The  mere  fact  of  blood  'kinship  makes  a 
family  in  the  biological  sense,  but  not  in  the  sociological  sense. 
It  is  the  common  and  mutually  conditioned  ideas  and  activities 
that  constitute  the  social  life  of  a  family,  and  an  adopted 
person  may  be  a  true  member  of  the  family  in  the  sociological 
sense  and  a  blood  brother  may  cease  to  be  a  member  of  the 
family  society.     Of   course  the  word   family  has   to  carry 
both  the  biological  and  the  sociological  meanings.    The  family 
enlarges  into  the  clan  and  the  nationality. 

2.  Lingual  societies.     All  English-speaking  people  are  in 
this  sense  one  society.    If  one  of  us  while  in  a  land  of  strange 
language  should  meet  an  English-speaking  person  we  should 
recognize  him  at  once  as  a  fellow  member  of  our  own  lingual 


-  3.  Economic  societies. 

—  4.  Political  societies. 

-"  5.  Religious  societies. 

—  6.  Other  cultural  groups. 


1  That  a  society  may  recruit  its  members  from  more  than  one  nation 
is  illustrated  by  numerous  organizations  represented  in  the  magazine  La 
Vie  International,  published  in  Brussels.  Such  internationalism  in  a 
society's  life  is  a  more  familiar  thought  in  Europe  than  in  America. 
These  nations  are  in  some  respects  comparable  to  our  "states." 


426  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

Societies  and  the  Social  Process. — Societies,  as  we  have  now 
seen,  get  their  identity  and  quality  by  virtue  of  mutually 
-^-"conditioning  activities.  The  various  species  of  social  activity 
are  the  central  concepts  with  which  sociology^  has  to~  deal. 
These  species  of  activity  taken  together  constitute  the~Tf7e 
of  every  society  and  are  as  we  have  seen  an  order  of  reality 
which  might  be  added  as  a  fourth  to  the  familiar  mineral, 
vegetable,  and  animal  kingdoms.  The  vast  totality  of  these 
interrelated  human  activities  may  be  called  social  life  just  as 
the  sum  total  of  biological  functioning  is  called  physical  life. 
Social  life  thus  conceived  is  the  field  for  our  investigations. 
This  fourth  kingdom  of  reality,  this  total  tide  of  preva- 
lent interwoven,  and  interdependent  activities  is  the  social 
process. 

Tt  Is  a  process  in  two  senses.  _First.  it  is  made  up  of 
activities.  Even  a  "static"  society,  quite  as  truly  as  one  that 
is  undergoing  change 1  is  functional,  alive,  its  very  being  is 
activity.  Second,  society  evolves.  In  spite  of  relative  pauses 
that  have  sometimes  been  long,  social  life  has  a  current  of 
change.  Like  a  river  with  seemingly  silent  pools,  which  never- 
theless moves  on  across  vast  areas,  the  life  of  society  has 
reached  its  present  state  out  of  a  far  different  past,  and  moves 
toward  a  future  still  unforeseen.  Not  only  is  its  very  being 
activity,  but  also  its  being  is  a  becoming.  Therefore  "the  social 
process"  is  perhaps  the  most  adequate,  and  so  the  most 
scientific,  brief  designation  for  the  reality  which  we  are 
studying. 

Society,  social  life,  or  the  social  process  is  unified  not 
merely  by  the  similarities  that  constitute  it  one  kingdom  of 
reality  while  differentiating  it  from  all  other  kinds  of  reality, 
but  also  in  vast  areas  by  the  mutual  c'ausation  of  the  parts, 
each  individual  act,  belief,  or  sentiment  which  is  one  of  a 
million  specimens  of  a  social  species  of  activity,  being  what 
it  is  by  reason  of  its  relation  with  the  antecedent  and  accom- 
panying activities  which  also  are  elements  in  the  indissoluble 
unity  of  the  social  process.  A  society  can  be  identified  and 
picked  out  from  the  mass  of  social  life  whenever  a  par- 

1  Compare  p.  414. 


NATURAL  SOCIAL  ORDER  427 

ticular  mode  of  activity  prevails  among  a  number  of  people 
who  by  communication  are  made  aware  of  each  other  and  of 
their  similarity  with  respect  to  this  mode  of  activity,  and 
each  of  whom  engages  in  the  unifying  activity  as  a  result  of 
his  knowledge  of  the  past,  present  or  potential  activity  of 
other  members  of  the  group. 

Definitions.  —  Among  the  terms  some  of  which  we  have 
already  been  obliged  to  use  and  by  which  it  is  important  for  us 
to  denote  accurate  concepts  are:  ^society,  population,  class, 
sect,  paf^y,  functional  group  and  caste.  ' 

The  definition  of  a  society  must  include  the  three  charac- 
teristics above  set  forth.  x 

(a)  The  very  essence  of  a  society  is  the  common  life  of 
beliefs,  sentiments,  practical  arts;  some  or  all  of  these  pre- 
vailing to  such  an  extent  among  a  number  of  persons  as  to 
constitute  a  real  objective  similarity  and  unity  among  them, 
and  to  mark  off  these  people  from  others  among  whom  the 
same  activities  do  not  prevail. 

(b)  A  plurality  of  psych  ophysical  organisms  capable  of 
such  activities  must  be  in  communication. 

'(c)  By  virtue  of  their  communications  they  mutually 
elicit,  repress,  and  direct  each  other's  activities,  so  that  the 
prevalence  among  them  of  the  unifying  activity  is  due  to  the 
causal  interrelationship  of  these  activities.  These  three  ele- 
ments are  included  in  the  definition  of  society;  the  common 
unifying  activities,  continuously  growing  out  of  causal  inter- 
relationship, between  the  activities  of  communicating  asso- 
ciates; or  to  put  the  obvious  first  and  the  essential  last,  a 
number  of  people  in  such  communication,  as  to  set  up  a 
relation  of  reciprocal  causation  and  so  to  establish  among 
them  a  union  in  common  activity. 

A  population  is  a  number  of  persons  who  at  a  given 
time  inhabit  a  given  area;  it  is  any  considerable  number  of 
persons  who  are  together  in  space  and  time  and  distinct  from 
those  who  are  outside  of  the  same  temporal  and  spatial  rela- 
tions. Such  a  group  presents  the  condition  most  favorable 


1  See  p.  417. 


1  *^Xx^ 
•»— '        —      '  /, 

\  f 

L  i* 


**- 


i^c   ^    ^^>   -v*^~~'*+***i 


428  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

to  the  development  of  a  society,  and  is  important  in  pro- 
portion as  its  numbers  are  great  and  their  spatial  relation 
permanent. 

A  class  is  a  group  of  persons  unified  by  any0  observable 
relation  of  similarity,  as  the  scientific  or  literary  or  priestly 
or  wealthy  class.  A  class  may  be  distinguished  by  a  similar 
relation  between  its  members  and  their  associates  outside  their 
class,  as  the  respected  and  the  despised,  or  even  by  their  similar 
material  environment,  as  mountaineers  and  plainsmen.  As 
these  illustrations  show,  the  members  of  a  class  need  not 
be  together  in  time  and  space  or  in  communication,  and  their 
similarity  need  not  be  a  similarity  in  activities,  therefore  they 
do  not  necessarily  constitute  a  society.  They  may  belong  to 
different  populations  or  ages ;  their  similarity,  however,  must 
be  real  and  if  they  are  to  be  recognized  as  a  class  their  simi- 
larity must  be  known  to  an  observer. 

A  functional  group  is  a  class  included  within  a  larger 
society  and  united  by  similarity  with  respect  to  some  activity 
which  is  regarded  as  a  necessary  part  of  the  established  social 
order  of  the  larger  society;  as  the  carpenters  or  the  printers, 
the  medical  profession  or  the  official  class. 

When  a  class  becomes  "self-conscious,"  that  is,  aware 
of  the  similarity  by  which  it  is  united  and  by  which  it  is 
separated  from  outsiders,  it  may  be  a  sect,  a  party,  or  a 
caste. 

A  sect  is  a  self-conscious  class  whose  bond  of  similarity 
consists  in  common  beliefs  or  common  tastes  and  sentiments 
or  both. 

A  party  is  a  self-conscious  class  whose  bond  of  similarity 
consists  not  merely  in  common  ideas  and  sentiments  but  in 
a  common  practical  interest  and  aim  and  the  activities  prompted 
thereby.  Of  course  a  party,  as  much  as  a  sect,  must  have 
some  common  idea  and  sentiment,  but  in  the  case  of  a  party, 
idea  and  sentiment  have  practical  objective  reference  and 
find  expression  in  overt  endeavor.  An  alternative  name  for 
a  party  is  '^interest  group."  The  scientific  explanation  of 
political  forms  and  of  political  movements  is  to  be  found 
m  the  study  of  parties  in  the  sense  just  defined.  The  im- 


NATURAL  SOCIAL  ORDER  429 

porters  are  a  party  who  want  the  tariff  reduced;  consumers 
as  such  are  a  party;  the  manufacturers  of  a  given  commodity 
are  a  party;  the  "liquor  interest"  is  a  party.1 

A  caste  is  a  self-conscious  class,  membership  in  which 
is  determined  by  birth  and  not  by  activities  of  those  included 
in  the  class  and  whose  bond  of  similarity  consists  in  judg- 
ments of  superiority  and  inferiority  held  by  others  toward 
all  the  members  of  the  caste  and  generally  acquiesced  in  by 
the  members  of  the  caste  themselves.  Castes  are  groups  that 
stand  upon  different  levels  before  the  bar  of  group  judgment. 
Inequality  before  the  courts  is  often  a  less  serious  matter 
and  may  be  included  or  implied  in  the  inequality  of  caste. 
Group  judgment  can  dispense  life's  rewards  and  penalties, 
opportunities  and  disabilities  more  effectively  and  upon  more 
subjects  than  the  courts  which  are  only  one  agency  of  group 
judgment.  Members  of  a  lower  caste  as  a  rule  themselves 
accept  the  group  judgment  by  which  they  are  condemned  to 
inferiority,  and  members  of  a  higher  caste  are  certain,  except 
in  the  cases  of  rare  individuals,  to  accept  a  group  judgment 
by  which  they  are  assigned  superiority. 

A  duke  would  cease  to  be  a  duke  if  men  ceased  to  think 
him  one.  The  essential  reality  in  the  case  is  an  attitude  of 
mind.  There  are  no  dukes  where  the  public  mind  lacks  that 
attitude.  This  once  more  illustrates  the  psychic  character  of 
social  phenomena.  There  was  a  time  when  the  obliteration 
of  the  social  ideas  and  sentiments  by  virtue  of  which  dukes 
were  dukes  would  have  been  an  exploit  more  momentous 
than  digging  a  Panama  Canal,  and  those  ideas  and  sentiments, 
though  purely  psychic  phenomena,  were  as  real  as  the  rocks 
at  the  Culebra  cut. 

The  natural  social  order  includes  and  produces  not  only 
societies,  classes,  castes,  sects,  parties,  and  functional  groups, 

1  This  conception  v/as  developed  by  Gustav  Ratzenhof er :  Wesen 
und  Zweck  der  Politik.  Brockhaus  Leipzig,  1893,  vol.  i,  chaps.  5,  7, 
18,  19;  vol.  iii,  chap.  71.  Compare  Albion  W.  Small:  General  Sociology. 
University  of  Chicago  Press,  1905,  part  iv ;  and  A.  F.  Bentley :  The 
Process  of  Government :  University  of  Chicago  Press,  1908,  chaps,  xiv 
and  following. 


430  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

but  also  individuals.    To  this  last  statement  a  separate  chapter 
must  be  devoted. 

The  Social  Bealities.— The  phrase  "social  realities"  refers 
primarily  to  social  activities  which  constitute  the  social  life, 
including  both  the  compound  social  realities  of  which  the 
most  imposing'  are  customs  and  institutions,  and  also  the 
simpler  social  activities  which  were  classified  as  social  ideas, 
sentiments,  and  practices.  The  profitable  study  of  sociology 
will  conceive  of  society  functionally,1  that  is,  will  center  chief 
attention  on  the  social  activities.  But  the  structural 1  aspect 
cannot  be  Ignored  and  viewing  the  structural  aspect  we  s^e 
that  social  realities  include  the  social  order  with  its  societies, 
classes,  castes,  sects,  parties,  functional  groups,  and  organiza- 
tions. Of  these,  societies,  sects,  parties,  and  functional  groups 
are  bound  together  by  common  activities;  castes  are  held 
together  and  distinguished  from  the  rest  of  society  by  social 
judgments  and  sentiment  of  others  as  well  as  of  the  members 
of  the  caste ;  organizations  get  their  character  and  unity  from 
a  particular  correlation  of  activities ;  and  classes,  the  loosest 
entity  of  all,  are  held  together  by  any  perceived  objective 
resemblance.  The  "social  realities"  may  be  said  to  include 
a!so  the  social  shell  of  sociophysical  phenomena.  The  social 
order  itself  is  primarily  and  essentially  an  inclusive  correla- 
tion of  social  activities,  but  that  statement  implies  that  it  in-' 
eludes,  when  structurally  viewed,  all  of  the  realities  just 
enumerated. 

1  Of  course,  these  words  do  not  have  exactly  the  same  meaning 
for  us  as  for  the  biologist,  but  there  are  no  better  words  by  which  to 
express  the  meaning  here  indicated. 


CHAPTER   XXIV 
SOCIETY  AND  THE  INDIVIDUAL 

1.  Identity  of  Individual  and  Social  Activities. — Each  in- 
dividual's Methodism  or  Republicanism,  as  we  now  see,  is  a 
single  item  in  the  great  social  reality  "Methodism"  or  "Re- 
publicanism." The  individual  activity  is  one  instance  of  the 
prevalent  activity  and  is  itself  known  to  associates  and  is 
socially  caused.  If  we  could  take  a  great  social  reality  *  and 
pull  it  out,  as  one  does  a  telescope,  to  show  its  parts,  those 
parts  would  be  seen  to  be  individual  activities.  Or  to  use  a 
better  figure,  as  when  we  put  a  piece  of  animal  or  vegetable 
tissue  under  a  powerful  microscope  we  see  that  it  is  com- 
posed of  individual  cells,  so  when  we  look  at  a  social  reality 
closely  enough,  so  to  speak,  microscopically,  so  as  to  dis- 
cover its  histology,  we  perceive  that  it  is  composed  of  in- 
dividual activities.  Each  cell  in  a  tissue  is  a  living  individual 
but  it  could  not  live  except  as  a  part  of  the  tissue  nor  could 
the  tissue  live  except  in  the  life  of  the  cells.  So  a  social 
reality,  however  great,  is  made  up  of  individual  activities  so 
interrelated  as  to  compose  it;  at  the  same  time  the  individual 
activities  can  exist  only  as  social  realities.  As  cells  can  be 
adequately  understood  only  as  belonging  to  tissue  and  tissue 
can  be  adequately  understood  only  as  composed  of  cells,  so 
also  the  individual  activities  can  be  adequately  understood 
only  as  items  in  social  realities  and  social  realities  can  be  ade- 
quately understood  only  as  composed  of  individual  activities. 
Individual  and  social  activities  are  identical  in  the  same  sense 
that  cells  and  tissue  are  identical. 

1  We  are  referring  to  the  essential  social  realities,  or  social  activi- 
ties, like  Methodism  and  Republicanism,  although  the  figures  of  the 
telescope  and  tissue  would  better  correspond  to  static  realities.  A  com- 
oarison  cannot  be  expected  to  illustrate  more  than  one  point  at  a  time. 

431 


432  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

2.  Subjective  Individual  and  Objective  Social  Keality.— 
By  a  subjective  reality  we  mean  an  activity  which  is  a  part 
of  the  consciousness  of  some  individual  who  is  called  the 
subject.  His  name  is  the  subject  of  the  verb  which  expresses 
the  activity,  as  when  we  say  John  thinks,  feels,  or  endeavors. 
John  can  be  conscious  only  of  his  own  activities,  the  activities 
of  which  he  is  the  subject,  or  which  are  "subjective"  to  him. 
John  can  be  aware  of  another  man's  activity,  but  not  conscious 
of  any  but  his  own.  John  can  be  aware  of  the  sun  and  the 
stars,  the  trees  and  the  house,  but  he  cannot  be  conscious 
of  any  of  these  things.  Everything  of  which  John  can  be 


aware  only  is  objective  to  him  and  can  be  the  object  in  a 
sentence  of  which  "John"  is  the  subject,  as  when  we  say 
John  sees  the  sun,  or  respects  his  neighbor's  act. 

Every  atom  of  psychic  reality  is  subjective  to  someone, 
therefore  the  words  subjective  and  psychic  are  sometimes 
treated  as  synonymous,  but  that  will  not  do  here  because  in  so 
far  as  John  or  any  other  person  becomes  aware  of  the  activi- 
ties of  his  associates  they  are  objective  to  him;  they  are  ob- 
jective, psychic  realities. 

In  the  diagram  each  of  the  tiny  circles  represents  the 
consciousness  of  one  individual,  a  closed  circle  belonging  pe- 
culiarly to  the  single  person-  who  is  its  "subject."  The  circle 
surrounding  these  tiny  circles  represents  the  social  world  com- 


SOCIETY  AND  THE  INDIVIDUAL  433 

posed  of  these  tiny  circles  of  individual  consciousness  like 
cells  in  a  living  tissue.  All  the  activity  that  is  contained  within 
one  of  the  minute  circles  is  subjective  to  someone — call  him 
John — but  all  of  the  other  tiny  circles  are  objective  to  him, 
that  is  all  the  rest  that  is  contained  within  the  circle  of  the 
social  world,  in  so  far  as  it  is  known  to  John  at  all,  is  ob- 
jective to  him.  The  outer  circle  represents  the  boundary  of 
the  observable  world  and  includes  within  it,  but  outside  of 
the  circle  of  social  reality,  such  realities  as  sun  and  stars  and 
houses  and  material  things  in  general.  Thus  every  atom  of 
reality  included  in  the  social  process  is  subjective  to  someone, 
but  only  a  very  little  of  the  social  process  is  subjective  to  any 
one.  The  social  world  as  a  whole  is  objective  to  any  observer. 
The  material  realities  outside  the  social  world  within  the  largest 
circle  are  subjective  to  no  human  consciousness;  though  the 
idealistic  philosophers  believe  that  all  phenomena  of  what- 
ever kind  are  subjective  to  the  all-inclusive  consciousness. 
That,  however,  is  a  question  of  metaphysics  and  not  for  us. 
We  need  only  observe  that  every  atom  of  social  activity  is 
subjective  to  someone,  but  only  a  small  portion  even  of  any 
single  social  reality  is  subjective  to  any  one.  Thus  the  Ameri- 
can patriotism  is  a  very  big  and  very  real  thing  as  an  invader 
would  soon  find,  and  every  atom  of •  it  is  subjective  to  some- 
one, part  of  it  .to  me  and  part  of  it  to  my  reader ;  but  it  is 
only  a  very  tiny  portion  of  the  American  patriotism  that  is 
subjective  to  any  one  of  us.  The  American  patriotism  as  a 
whole  is  an  objective  social  reality  out  there. 

Thus  we  see  that  while  there  is  clear  distinction  between 
what  is  individual  to. me  and  what  is  individual  to  you;  namely, 
that  what  is  subjective  to  me  is  objective  to  you,  and  what 
is  subjective  to  you  is  objective  to  me,  in  so  far  as  it  is 
anything  to  me  at  all,  yet  this  is  a  distinction  of  mine  and 
thine,  and  not  at  all  a  difference  in  the  kind  of  reality,  but 
rather  in  the  way  of  knowing  it.  My  own  activity  I  know 
directly,  that  is,  consciously  or  subjectively  and  far  more  per- 
fectly, while  yours  I  know  only  objectively  and  less  per- 
fectly. But  both  yours  and  mine  would  be  equally  objective 
to  a  third  person,  and  my  individual  part  of  the  social  reality 


434  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

and  your  individual  part  of  it  as  observed  by  any  other  person 
are  both  in  and  of  the  social  reality,  as  a  little  water  of  the 
sea  is  in  and  of  the  sea. 

Individual  Life  Composite. — If  every  point  in  a  line  should 
be  taken  to  stand  for  the  Methodism  of  some  one  Methodist 
so  that  the  entire  line  should  represent  the  whole  social  reality 
of  Methodism,  and  another  line  should  similarly  represent 
Republicanism  and  if  John  were  both  a  Methodist  and  a 
Republican,  he  would  stand  at  the  intersection  of  these  two 
lines. 

Let  another  line  represent  carpentry.  John  is  a  car- 
penter. 


Let  another  represent  lying.     John  is  a  liar. 

Let  the  letter  I  be  the  first  personal  pronoun.  John  and 
every  other  individual  stand  each  at  the  intersection  of  many 
lines,  each  line  representing  a  social  activity  one  point  of 
which  is  subjective  to  him,  his  own  activity  and  a  part  of 
his  individuality. 

The  little  sprangles  at  the  ends  of  some  of  the  lines  indi- 
cate that  most  of  the  social  activities  that  intersect  are  com- 
pound and  could  be  raveled  out  by  complete  analysis  into  a 
number  of  included  activities.  This,  however,  is  not  the 
point  which  we  are  emphasizing  here,  but  rather  the  point 
that  many  social  activities  intersect  in  every  individual.  Our 
diagram  represents  only  a  portion  of  the  truth.  To  make 


SOCIETY  AND  THE  INDIVIDUAL  435 

it  represent  the  whole  truth  the  lines  would  curve  and  cross 
and  recross.  The  essential  facts  for  which  it  stands  are  these 
two:  first,  that  each  activity  of  one's  life  is  a  point  in  a 

,  line,  a  specimen  in  a  prevalent  species  of  activity;  and  sec- 
ond, that  the  life  of  any  individual  among  us  is  a  compound 
which  may  be  different  from  the  compound  of  activities  in- 
cluded in  the  life  of  any  other  person,  for  it  may  well 
be  that  in  no  two  persons  do  the  same  group  of  lines  inter- 
sect. 

To  abandon  our  diagram  and  adopt  a  figure  suggested  by 
the  fact  that  individual  activities  are  specimens  of  species,  we 
might  compare  the  activities  which  are  gathered  into  a  single 
individuality  with  the  flowers  which  are  gathered  into  a 
bouquet.  Every  single  flower  belongs  to  a  prevalent  species 
but  no  two  bouquets  are  alike.  The  lives  of  two  savages 
of  the  same  clan  would  resemble  each  other  as  would  two 
bouquets  gathered  in  the  same  meager  garden,  but  the  lives  of 
two  of  us  would  each  be  like  bouquets  which  had  been  gath- 
ered while  roaming  through  many  gardens  and  many  fields. 
We  have  grown  up  in  different  homes,  in  different  neighbor- 

.  hoods,  attended  different  schools,  spent  our  vacations  at 
different  resorts  and  have  been  members  of  scores  of  groups 
from  each  of  which  we  have  taken  something  of  our  indi- 
viduality, and  by  the  medium  of  the  printed  page  we  have 
associated  with  some  or  other  of  the  impressive  personalities 
of  distant  lands  and  ages.  These  are  not  the  only  reasons 
why  our  lives  are  compounded  of  different  elements,  but 
this  suffices  to  make  it  clear  that  individual  lives  in  their  total- 
ity are  both  highly  compounded  and  highly  diverse  from  one 
another.  We  have  now  seen  in  what  sense  individual  and 
social  realities  are  identical,  have  pointed  out  the  social  sig- 
nificance of  subjectivity  and  objectivity,  and  have  shown  that 
individual  life  is  a  peculiar  compound  of  numerous  social 
realities,  no  one  of  which,  generally  speaking,  would  have  been 
possible  to  the  individual  as  an  individual  in  isolation.  John 
would  not  have  been  a  Methodist  or  a  Republican  or  a  car- 
penter, if  he  had  been  the  first  man.  Either  of  these  implies 
a  long  preceding  social  evolution. 


436  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

The  Unit  of  Investigation. — According  to  Wundt1  all  sci- 
entific investigation  consists  in  one  or  both  of  two  processes, 
analysis  and  synthesis.  We  approach  the  vast,  banking,  and 
confused  reality  and  analyze  it  into  the  smallest  discoverable 
parts  and  then  we  observe  the  interrelationship  of  these  parts 
so  that  we  can  think  them  together  again  into  a  unity  which 
is  no  longer  baffling  cr  unintelligible.  In  order  to  give  a 
scientific  account  of  a  complicated  field  of  reality  it  is  neces- 
sary to  analyze  it  as  completely  as  possible  into  minute  elements 
which  recur  in  many  instances.2  It  may  be  possible  to  ex- 
plain a  great  and  unique  fact  in  its  entirety,  but  there  is  little 
prospect  of  complete  explanation  without  minute  analysis; 
and  there  can  be  no  law  for  the  occurrence  of  unique  phe- 
nomena, but  only  for  the  appearance  of  those  which  recur 
and  recur.  Superficial  analysis  merely  divides  society  into 
individual  persons  or  associates.  Thus  it  has  been  common 
among  sociologists  including  such  a  founder  of  the  science 
as  Spencer  and  such  a  modern  promoter  of  it  as  Giddings, 
to  look  upon  the  socius  as  the  unit  of  sociological  investiga- 
tion. But  the  socius  is  far  too  complex  and  far  too  unique 
to  be  the  element  yielded  by  ultimate  analysis  of  social  reality. 
To  take  the  socius  as  our  unit  of  investigation  would  be 
much  as  if  botanists  were  to  take  bouquets  as  their  units  of 
investigation.  As  we  saw  above,  any  examination  of  society 
which  is  microscopic  enough  to  reveal  its  histology  shows 
that  its  elements  are  particular  activities,  beliefs,  sentiments, 
and  practical  arts.  Each  social  element  in  these  activities  is 
subjective  to  some  individual,  although  belonging  to  a  kind 
of  activity  which  is  prevalent  among  many  individuals  and  in 
its  prevalence  constituting  a  sociological  species.  Methodism 
is  not  a  social  element,  and  John  is  not  a  social  element,  but 
John's  Methodism,  John's  Republicanism,  John's  carpentry, 

1  Wundt:    Methodenlehre,  erste  abtheilung,  p.   I. 

2  Compare  also  Tarde :     Laws  of  Imitation,  p.   I,  where  it  is  set 
forth  that  whether  "we  can  have  a  science  or  only  a  history,  or  at 
most,  a  philosophy  of  social  phenomena,"  depends  upon  whether  "they 
can  be  reduced,  like  other  facts,  to  series  of  minute  and  homogeneous 
phenomena." 


SOCIETY  AND  THE  INDIVIDUAL  437 

and  John's  lie  are  each  elements  in  the  social  situation.  Such 
elements  are  the  ultimate  units  of  sociological  investigation; 
they  are  the  units  the  prevalence  and  modifications  of  which 
must  be  accounted  for  if  there  is  to  be  any  sociological  ex- 
planation. John's  Methodism  may  be  said  to  be  a  specimen 
and  the  prevalent  Methodism  as  a  whole  a  variety  and  religion 
a  species,  or  perhaps  a  genus  of  social  activity. 

What  Determines  Individuality? — Various  elements  in  the 
determination  of  personality  have  been  separately  discussed. 
An  answer  to  the  present  question  would  require  these  sepa- 
rate elements  to  be  brought  together.  Such  recapitulation  as 
is  possible  at  this  point  will  refer  to  the  social,  and  certain  of 
the  psychophysical  causes  under  four  heads. 

i.  The  crop  that  grows  on  any  field  depends  upon  two  sets 
of  factors :  first,  soil,  dew,  showers,  and  sunshine,  the  gifts  of 
nature ;  and  second,  the  seed  and  cultivation.  Likewise  the  con- 
tent of  any  life  depends  upon  two  sets  of  factors:  first,  the 
gifts  of  nature,  the  hereditary  capacities  and  tendencies;  and 
second,  the  seeds  implanted  by  social  suggestion,  sympathetic 
radiation,  and  imitation,  and  the  general  euthenic  and  cultural 
conditions.  One  cannot  raise  oranges  or  pineapples  in  Maine 
nor  can  we  make  a  poet  or  mathematician  of  every  boy.  We 
cannot  raise  any  crop  in  the  middle  of  the  Sahara,  nor  can 
we  make  anything  of  an  idiot.  On  the  other  hand,  the  seem- 
ing sand  barrens  of  Florida  and  the  shale  lakeshores  of  cen- 
tral New  York  produce  crops  of  fruit  more  valuable  than 
the  yield  of  the  black  acres  of  the  prairies,  and  under  proper 
treatment  unpromising  youths  may  yield  a  priceless  fruitage 
of  life.  And  aside  from  idiots  and  the  possessors  of  special 
gifts  the  99  per  cent,  of  normal  human  beings  resemble  ordi- 
nary soil  in  that  such  soil  will  readily  bear  either  of  many 
crops  or  quite  as  readily  run  to  weeds,  and  such  lives  will 
readily  respond  to  social  stimulation  in  equally  various  and 
contrasting  ways. 

During  the  last  ten-year  period  for  which  figures  are  avail- 
able the  corn  lands  of  Illinois  yielded  on  the  average  thirty- 
six  bushels  to  the  acre,  while  the  experimental  plots  of  the 
College  of  Agriculture  of  the  State  University,  yielded  on  the 


438  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

average  eighty-six  bushels  to  the  acre.  Agronomists  declare 
that  the  average  yield  of  the  corn  lands  of  the  state  might 
by  scientific  culture  be  doubled.  It  is  probably  much  within 
the  truth  to  say  that  the  values  of  life  realized  by  the  people 
of  the  commonwealth  might  be  doubled.  This  is  the  problem 
of  education  and  of  all  the  agencies  of  social  control  which 
should  have  it  for  their  goal  and  guide  to  apply  the  conclu- 
sions of  sociology. 

The  chief  problem  is  not  to  upraise  the  paupers  and  crim- 
inals, the  degraded  and  debased  classes,  imperative  as  that  is, 
but  to  bring  nearer  to  realization  the  possibilities  of  normal 
lives  passed  in  ordinary  conditions. 

As  a  rule  the  importance  of  heredity  is  recognized  by  all 
intelligent  persons,  while  the  other  factors  in  the  determina- 
tion of  personality  are  neither  understood  nor  appreciated. 

Each  individual  must  accept  his  heredity  as  it  is,  but  within 
the  limits  set  by  his  heredity  his  career  will  vary  according 
to  the  variation  in  the  other  factors,  and  these  are  largely 
subject  to  his  own  control.  Even  society  as  a  whole  has  for 
the  present  at  least  a  very  limited  control  over  the  hereditary 
endowment  of  its  members,  but  might  exercise  a  vastly  im- 
portant control  over  the  other  factors  that  determine  their 
personality.  The  theoretical  question,  which  most  affects  the 
careers  of  men  and  societies,  heredity  or  environment,  will 
probably  never  be  answered.  But  the  practical  importance  of 
understanding  the  operation  of  a  set  of  causes  is  largely  pro- 
portioned to  their  amenability  to  human  control.  This  gives 
incalculable  importance  to  the  understanding  of  the  non- 
hereditary  factors  in  the  life  of  men  and  of  societies. 

2.  The  molding  of  the  individual  by  society.  The  adult 
member  of  society  has  a  conscious  life  composed  of  hopes, 
ambitions,  tastes,  distastes,  approvals,  disapprovals,  beliefs, 
plans,  methods,  and  their  expression  in  a  round  of  conduct; 
and  probably  he  would  find  the  greatest  difficulty  in  naming 
a  single  one  of  these  activities  aside  from  the  mere  function- 
ing of  his  animal  organism  which  he  would  have  in  its  present 
form  and  content  if  he  had  grown  up  in  isolation.  He  has 
developed  from  childhood  in  the  presence  of  a  thronging 


SOCIETY  AND  THE  INDIVIDUAL  439 

multitude  of  activities  which  were  in  the  world  before  his 
arrival.  For  every  child  the  question  is  which  of  all  these 
activities  shall  be  adopted  by  him  and  become  a  part  of  his 
own  stream  of  consciousness. 

This  depends  largely  upon  the  character  of  the  social  con- 
tacts to  which  he  is  exposed.  Each  of  us  has  entered  into 
hundreds  of  different  social  contacts,  each  of  which  has  left 
some  contribution,  desirable  or  undesirable,  to  our  content  of 
life.  Each  of  us  might  have  been  quite  other  than  he  is  had 
his  social  contacts  been  radically  different.  There  is  no  one 
of  us  who,  introduced  in  infancy  into  Turkish  society  might 
not,  as  well  as  not,  have  talked  only  the  Turkish  language, 
believed  in  Mohammedanism,  practiced  polygamy,  and  adopted 
the  arts  and  crafts,  personal  and  social  customs,  sentiments 
and  tastes  of  that  people.  It  is  a  matter  of  common  observa- 
tion that  opinions,  for  instance,  in  religion  or  politics,  are 
firmly  fixed  in  youth  by  the  influence  of  parents,  teachers,  and 
neighbors.  If  they  are  modified  later  it  is  almost  invariably 
as  a  result  of  suggestions  received  from  other  teachers,  writers, 
and  associates.  Prejudices,  sentiments,  tastes,  standards  of 
ambition  and  morality  are  equally  dependent  upon  sympathetic 
radiation  and  suggestion.  Overt  practices  are  likewise  de- 
pendent upon  imitation,  suggestion,  and  radiation. 

3.  The  effects  of  social  molding  upon  the  permanent 
cerebroneural  organization  of  the  individual.  A  human  be- 
ing, the  organic  development  of  whose  brain  and  nervous  sys- 
tem stopped  at  birth  or  soon  after,  could  never  become  a  man 
or  woman,  whatever  the  increase  in  stature.  The  organic 
changes  that  take  place  after  birth  may  go  far  in  determining 
what  shall  be  one's  character,  ability,  and  disposition  at  ma- 
turity, what  lines  of  thought,  feeling,  and  activity  have  be- 
come congenial  and  easy,  and  what  remain  difficult  or  im- 
possible. 

We  remember  the  vast  mass  of  our  experience,  significant 
or  trivial.  Much  of  what  we  remember  we  may  never  recall 
but  it  remains  stored  away  in  the  modifications  of  our  cerebral 
structure,  and  every  now  and  then,  so  to  speak,  something 
fhat  we  had  thought  forgotten  falls  off  the  dark  shelves  of 


440  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

memory  and  comes  rolling  into  the  bright  light  of  conscious- 
ness. Constantly  the  mind  reaches  up  to  take  down  those 
items  of  the  vast  store  which  we  are  accustomed  to  make 
use  of.  Now  as  our  intellectual  life  depends  not  upon  the 
comparative  vacancy  of  the  baby's  natural  endowment,  but 
is  enriched  by  the  stores  of  memory,  so  also  our  life  of  emo- 
tion, morality,  speech,  skill,  self-control,  and  whatever  else 
goes  to  constitute  our  personality  depends  not  upon  hereditary 
tendencies  and  impulses  alone  but  upon  developed  interests 
and  established  dispositions.  And  as  ideas,  even  the  countless 
trivial  ones,  keep  their  place  in  the  memory  store  by  virtue  of 
the  modifications  which  they  have  made  in  the  substance  of 
our  cerebroneural  system,  so  likewise  our  feelings  and  acts 
imbed  themselves  in  our  structure  as  permanent  tendencies  to 
repetition.  The  book  of  remembrance  in  which  our  deeds  and 
thoughts  and  emotions  are  recorded  is  our  own  living  sub- 
stance. 

4.  T4ie  effect  of  social  contact  upon  the  temporary  set 
of  the  organism.  The  human  organism  is  an  immensely  com- 
plicated mechanism  having  the  capacity  to  respond  to  stimula- 
tion in  many  different  ways.  To-day  one  may  be  trifling  and 
purposeless.  Nothing  seems  to  him  to  be  worth  a  struggle. 
Life's  opportunities  and  demands  provoke  a  smile  of  cynicism. 
On  another  day  he  may  be  full  of  the  joy  of  zestful  endeavor. 
The  struggle  for  righteousness  and  service  engages  his  pow- 
ers and  there  is  steadiness  and  momentum  in  his  activities. 
Except  in  so  far  as  it  is  due  to  cruder  physiological  causes, 
this  results  from  the  law  of  attention.  Attention  is  an  ad- 
justment of  the  whole  organism.  When  the  object  of  atten- 
tion is  external  and  visible  we  turn  our  faces  toward  it  and 
focus  our  eyes  upon  it,  but  these  external  adjustments  are 
simply  the  beginning  of  an  adjustment  of  our  inner  apparatus 
of  consciousness.  All  the  association  paths  that  converge 
toward  this  object  are  opened.  Ideas  consonant  with  the 
object  of  attention  start  up  and  begin  to  flock  toward  the 
foreground  of  consciousness.  Any  idea  that  is  capable  of 
fixing  the  attention  and  arousing  the  feelings  produces  an 
adjustment  of  the  entire  organism  which  continues  for  a  time 


SOCIETY  AND  THE  INDIVIDUAL  441" 

even  after  the  object  of  thought  which  occasioned  the  adjust- 
ment has  been  dismissed  from  consciousness.  The  individual 
who  lives  through  a  day  in  such  an  adjustment  produced  by 
contemplation  of  a  thought  or  purpose  to  which  his  whole  or- 
ganism responds,  passes  through  his  environment  as  a 
magnet  passes  through  a  pile  of  sand  and  iron  filings  and 
selects  those  things  congenial  to  itself,  or  to  speak  literally 
the  organism  thus  adjusted  by  ah  act  of  attention  responds 
to  stimulation  in  ways  that  are  consonant  with  its  state  of 
adjustment.  This  we  called  the  "subconscious"  set  because  the 
effects  upon  the  organism  and  its  disposition  linger  for  a 
time  after  the  object  of  attention  which  has  established  its 
dominance  is  no  longer  in  consciousness  and  the  mind  has 
become  occupied  with  external  objects  which  elicit  its  active 
response. 

But  this  effect  is  only  temporary.  It  fades  away  like  the 
after-image  which  vivid  light  leaves  upon  the  retina.  No  man 
can  live  at  his  best  who  does  not  frequently  renew  his  adapta- 
tion to  his  purpose  by  contemplating  such  ideas  as  he  has 
found  by  experience  are  capable  of  producing  the  necessary 
adjustment  any  more  than  a  watch  that  is  not  wound  up  will 
keep  time.  The  human  organism  is  simply  a  mechanism  de- 
signed to  be  controlled  by  the  process  of  attention.  To  expect 
to  fulfill  a  high  aim  that  is  only  occasionally  in  the  mind  is 
folly,  while  on  the  other  hand  it  has  been  wisely  said  that  only 
one  rule  of  practice  is  essential  to  the  attainment  of  such 
aims,  namely,  to  live  habitually  in  the  presence  of  the  best  in 
the  field  where  one's  aspiration  lies. 

One  can  be  as  different  on  different  days  as  if  born  of 
other  parents,  the  whole  tendency  of  the  organism  transposed. 
We  often  speak  of  our  "better  self."  We  have  not  several 
selves,  but  our  one  self  is  so  complex  and  so  rich  in  possi- 
bilities that  it  has  material  enough  in  it  for  several  selves,  for 
sound  and  balanced  life  and  for  fragmentary  piecemeal  life, 
for  saint  and  demon. 

Paradoxes. — We  are  now  ready  to  understand  the  famous 
paradox:  "Society  existed  before  the  individual."  Before 
there  could  be  individualities  like  our  own  there  must  first  be 


442  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

evolved  the  various  activities  which  we  inherit  from  a  long 
social  past  and  which  no  isolated  human  being  could  have  orig- 
inated, and  also  the  elaborate  opportunities  for  communica- 
tion through  diverse  social  contacts. 

Another  terse  embodiment  of  the  same  truth  is  the  say- 
ing that  "One  man  is  no  man" ;  it  may  have  been  originated  by 
someone  who  had  in  mind  the  power  of  organization  and  the 
comparative  impotence  of  isolated  and  unorganized  endeavor, 
but  it  is  literally  true  as  a  fact  of  social  evolution.  One  man 
alone  could  never  become  a  man  corresponding  to  our  con- 
ception of  man,  but  such  an  isolated  creature  lacking  all  the 
activities  that  compose  our  lives  would  be  nearer  to  the  other 
animals  than  to  us.  Would  he  speak  the  English  language? 
No,  for  even  here  and  now  those  born  deaf  are  also  dumb 
since  language  is  not  a  gift  of  nature  but  a  social  product. 
Would  he  have  heard  of  Christ  or  have  discovered  for  him- 
self His  message?  No,  he  would  be  more  destitute  of  re- 
ligion than  any  known  heathen.  Would  he  despise  deceit  and 
indecency  and  theft?  No,  he  would  have  no  conscience  for 
no  one  is  born  with  a  conscience  and  conscience  is  the  product 
of  social  experience.  Would  he  have  clothing  of  cloth  woven 
from  spun  yarn?  No;  these  require  the  previous  accumula- 
tion of  many  inventions  which  no  one  of  us  alone  would  have 
made.  An  isolated  individual  of  the  genus  Homo  would  be  a 
naked  savage  and  a  dumb  brute.  "The  individual  man,"  says 
Bastian,  "is  nothing,  at  best  an  idiot."  1 

Whether  the  first  man  was  as  gifted  as  Aristotle  or  pos- 
sessed an  intelligence  scarcely  superior  to  that  of  a  chim- 
panzee would  have  made  very  little  difference.  In  either  case 
he  would  have  had  no  language  and  very  little  to  say  if  he 
had  possessed  one.  His  content  of  consciousness  would  have 
been  mainly  confined  to  the  ideas  directly  presented  by  sense- 
perception.  He  would  have  been  aware  of  external  objects 
of  sense-perception.  He  would  have  been  conscious  of  hun- 
ger, pain,  and  instinctive  promptings.  But  .^//-consciousness, 

1  Compare  Ludwig  Gumplowicz:  Outlines  of  Sociology.  (Tr. 
by  Moore)  American.  Academy  of  Political  and  Social  Science,  1899, 
P-  45- 


SOCIETY  AND  THE  INDIVIDUAL  443 

according  to  the  elaborate  study  of  Professor  Baldwin,1  is  de- 
veloped only  in  association.  The  possession  of  great  capaci- 
ties or  small  would  mean  but  little  to  any  descendant  of  Adam 
who  was  obliged  to  live  in  absolute  isolation  from  his  kind. 
Society,  as  Professor  Ellwood  and  others  have  remarked,  pro- 
duces its  individual  personalities  as  truly  as  an  organism  pro- 
duces its  cells.  It  produces  their  tastes,  sentiments,  opinions, 
and  arts.  We  do  not  inherit  a  single  idea  but  only  the  ca- 
pacities for  ideas  and  activities.  If  these  capacities  should 
not  be  awakened  by  social  contacts  and  enriched  by  the 
results  of  social  evolution  they  would  be  like  seeds  in 
bottles. 

With  all  our  education  not  even  the  greatest  man  originates 
a  contribution  to  the  social  heritage  of  ideas,  sentiments,  and 
practices  that  is  large  when  compared  to  the  whole  vast  store 
of  that  heritage  to  which  the  humble  and  common  individual 
is  an  heir.  And  the  rare  contributions  that  are  of  greatest 
moment  would  be  impossible  without  the  previous  possession 
of  the  common  store.  We  originate  a  little  because  we  in- 
herit much ;  we  inherit  enough  to  make  us  men  and  women 
because  the  common  store  has  been  produced  by  ages  of  social 
evolution ;  that  which  a  single  life  deprived  from  birth  of  all 
association  would  develop,  is  as  nothing. 

"The  individual  is  an  abstraction"  is  another  paradoxical 
expression  which  has  become  common  among  sociologists. 
McDougal 2  writes :  "The  strictly  individual  human  mind, 
with  which  the  older  introspective  and  descriptive  psychology 
contented  itself,  is  an  abstraction  merely,  and  has  no  real  exist- 
ence." An  abstraction  is  that  which  can  be  thought  of  by 
itself  but  which  cannot  exist  by  itself.  We  can  think  of  the 
individual  apart  from  society  but  that  which  we  know  as 
individual  life  is  in  and  of  the  larger  life  of  society.  When 
once  produced  it  might  for  a  time  continue  in  isolation  but  it 
could  never  have  been  produced  in  isolation,  and  cannot  be 
understood  if  thought  of  only  by  itself.  Says  Professor 

1  Baldwin :    Social  and  Ethical  Interpretations  in  Mental  Develop- 
ment, chap.  i. 

2  McDougal :    Social  Psychology,  p.  16. 


444  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

Cooley1:  "Self  and  society  are  twin  born,  the  notion  of  a 
separate  and  independent  ego  is  an  illusion."  Possibly  Pro- 
fessor Cooley's  discussion  in  his  "Human  Nature  and  the 
Social  Order"  may  seem  a  little  extreme  to  some  readers ;  for 
example,  in  his  italicized  statement:  "Self  and  other  do  not 
exist  as  mutually  exclusive  social  facts."  But  the  thought 
of  self  includes  thoughts  of  social  relationship.  John  thinks 
of  himself  as  Thomas'  son,  as  Charles'  partner  and  as  Mary's 
husband;  the  content  of  John's  consciousness,  the  very  sub- 
stance of  his  life,  is  socially  derived  and  self-consciousness 
develops  on  a  background  of  other  consciousness.  In  the 
language  of  Professor  Baldwin:  "Both  ego  and  alter  are 
essentially  social."  2 

Sociology  the  Study  of  Life. — It  is  clear  that  individual  and 
social  life  cannot  be  separated,  that  society  cannot  be  under- 
stood except  as  made  up  of  the  activities  of  individuals,  nor 
individual  lives  except  as  made  up  of  participation  in  preva- 
lent social  activities  (tastes,  judgments,  beliefs,  and  prac- 
tices), and  as  molded  by  social  contacts.  The  real  object  of 
our  study  is  life,  the  conscious  life  of  man  in  its  concrete 
richness  and  variety.  Life  is  at  once  both  individual  and 
social;  these  are  two  aspects  of  the  one  reality. 

When  the  biologist  uses  the  word  "life"  he  means  a  set  of 
activities  partly  chemical,  partly  mechanical — digestion,  secre- 
tion, osmosis,  respiration,  circulation,  and  whatever  else  is  in- 
cluded in  the  functioning  of  the  animal  organism,  a  complex 
process  which  as  yet  he  imperfectly  understands  but  which 
furnishes  the  object  of  studies  of  exceeding  interest  and  value. 
But  when  one  of  us  says  "my  life"  he  is  not  thinking  of  nutri- 
tion, peristalsis  and  the  circulation  of  the  blood,  nor  are  these 
w,hat  we  read  about  in  a  biography,  but  of  a  succession  of  in- 
terrelated activities  going  on  in  consciousness  and  more  or  less 
imperfectly  manifested  by  the  muscular  movements  which  are 
mediated  by  those  states  of  consciousness,  and  which  we  call 

1  Social  Organization,  p.  5.  Scribners,  1902,  chaps,  i-vi;  see  also 
Index  under  "Self." 

'Social  and  Ethical  Interpretations  in  Mental  Development. 
tniJlan,  1897,  P-  9' 


SOCIETY  AND  THE  INDIVIDUAL  445 

psychophysical  or  sociophysical  according  as  we  have  in  mind 
the  work  of  one  or  the  common  work  of  many.  Life  in  this 
sense  is  precisely  the  object  studied  by  sociology.  The  study 
in  a  scientific  spirit  and  by  scientific  methods  of  this  conscious 
life,  which  is  both  individual  and  social,  is  a  new  step  in 
intellectual  progress.  It  is  a  realm  which  has  been  given  over 
to  speculations,  dictated  by  practical  interests,  largely  didactic 
and  ethical,  of  which  many  have  become  popularized  and 
intrenched  in  prejudice  but  which  fall  far  short  of  giving 
scientific  comprehension  or  practical  control  of  the  realities 
which  are  of  greatest  interest  and  import  to  man. 


PART   III 
SOCIAL  EVOLUTION 


CHAPTER   XXV 
THE  PERSPECTIVE  OF  SOCIAL  EVOLUTION 

Comparative  and  Genetic  Sociology. — Comparative  anatomy, 
by  observing  the  resemblances  and  differences  between  homolo- 
gous organs  in  different  species,  discovered  the  first  hints  of 
the  interrelationship  of  animal  forms  and  of  their  evolution, 
and  helped  to  reveal  the  orderly  reign  of  natural  law  in  the  ani- 
mal kingdom.  Comparative  philology,  comparative  religions, 
comparative  jurisprudence,  comparative  folklore,  the  compara- 
tive study  of  the  family  and  of  moral  systems,  have  shown 
that  there  are  homologies  in  the  forms  of  social  activities,  that 
they,  too,  have  had  an  evolution,  and  that  the  orderly  reign 
of  natural  law  includes  the  social  kingdom.  The  comparative 
method  of  investigation  is  characteristic  of  the  sciences  of  life. 
In  investigating  inorganic  phenomena  we  guess  with  such 
reason  as  we  may  at  the  conditions  that  give  rise  to  a  phe- 
nomenon that  is  to  be  explained,  and  then  supply  the  condi- 
tions, and  if  the  phenomenon  emerges  we  regard  our  hypothe- 
sis as  confirmed.  And  we  vary  the  conditions  and  observe  the 
corresponding  .changes  in  the  resulting  phenomenon.  But  in 
sociology  we  observe  the  phenomenon  to  be  explained  wherever 
we  can  find  it,  note  the  conditions  in  presence  of  which  it 
appears,  eliminate  from  the  explanation  those  non-essentials 
which  are  not  always  present  and  observe  the  differences  be- 
tween the  different  instances  of  our  problem  phenomenon  and 
the  corresponding  differences  between  the  conditioning  situa- 
tions in  which  it  emerges.  The  contrast  between  experimental 
and  comparative/  science  is  that  in  experimental  science  we 
make  our  facts,  while  in  comparative  science  we  search  for 
the  facts  as  nature  supplies  them.  In  order  to  eliminate  non- 
essentials  and  identify  essentials  in  the  explanation  and  to 
correlate  changes  in  the  resultant  with  changes  in  the  causal 

449 


450  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

conditions,  we  may  need  to  observe  many  instances  and  to 
find  these  instances  we  may  have  to  search  through  many 
ages  and  climes,  especially  among  many  different,  contem- 
porary societies,  in  as  wide  a  variety  of  conditions  as  pos- 
sible. 

The  comparative  method  develops  into  the  genetic  method, 
in  which  we  see  results  being  produced  in  nature's  laboratory. 
This  means  that  science  now  sees  every  problem  of  life  against 
an  evolutionary  background.  Not  long  ago  our  state  of  mind 
with  reference  to  these  problems  resembled  that  of  the  Cali- 
fornia Indians  with  reference  to  the  giant  sequoias,  which  they 
thought  had  not  grown  like  other  trees  but  had  been  from  the 
beginning  as  they  are  now.  The  vastest  and  most  ancient 
realities,  as  well  as  the  new  and  trivial,  have  grown,  have 
issued  out  of  non-being  by  an  orderly  process  of  causation. 
This  gives  us  a  clue  for  the  comprehension  of  the  present, 
and  even  throws  some  gleams  upon  the  future. 

In  the  development  of  every  peculiar  animal  or  vegetable 
form  some  special  conditions  are  involved,  but  the  general 
laws  of  organic  evolution,  the  main  principles  of  explanation, 
are  the  same  for  plants  and  animals,  mammals  and  mollusks, 
phenogams,  and  cryptogams.1  Likewise  every  peculiar  social 
activity  involves  some  special  conditions,  but  the  general  prin- 
ciples of  social  evolution  are  the  same  for  languages,  religions, 
governments  and  laws,  arts,  plays,  and  ceremonies,  sciences 
and  philosophies,  economic  arts  and  moral  codes. 

Both  in  biology  and  sociology  genetic  investigation  is  espe- 
cially fruitful  when  applied  to  lower  forms.  Possibly  the 
brightest  lights  have  been  thrown  upon  the  nature  of  human 
life  itself  not  by  the  dissection  of  human  bodies,  but  by  the 
study  of  such  creatures  as  rabbits,  guinea-pigs,  flies,  sea-ur- 
chins, and  earthworms,  partly,  it  is  true,  because  with  such 
cheap  material  the  experimental  method  can  be  applied,  but 
largely  also  because  there  the  structures  and  processes  are 
simple  enough  to  be  intelligible,  and  because  these  simple  early 
stages  offer  explanations  of  the  final  result  which  study  of 
that  result  by  itself  could  hardly  furnish.  We  may  not  be 

1  Compare  p.  7. 


THE  PERSPECTIVE  OF  SOCIAL  EVOLUTION     451 

able  to  experiment  extensively  with  the  lower  social  forms, 
but  their  number  and  variety  afford  scope  for  the  compara- 
tive method.  Their  greater  simplicity  as  compared  with  later 
social  forms  offers  the  investigator  an  advantage  like  that 
which  the  neurologist  finds  in  studying  the  elements  of  nervous 
organization  in  worms  and  mollusks,  and  their  successive  stages 
display 'the  methods  by  which  final  results  have  been  attained. 
A  sociology  which  was  confined  to  a  study  of  the  civilization 
of  Europe  and  America  would  be  like  a  biology  confined  to 
study  of  the  mammalia. 

We  cannot  assume  identity  between  the  life  and  condi- 
tions of  surviving  savages  and  those  of  our  own  remote 
forbears ;  it  is  only  in  a  figure  of  speech  that  Professor  Thomas 
refers  to  the  savages  as  "a  sort  of  contemporaneous  ancestry." 
But  archeological  evidence  indicates  the  close  resemblance  be- 
tween the  Stone  Age  of  the  present  and  of  ten  thousand  years 
ago.  The  biological  evolutionist  is  by  no  means  better  off 
than  we  in  respect  to  the  ability  to  see  past  forms  in  the  lower 
orders  of  the  present. 

Caution  is  to  be  observed  in  the  criticism  of  materials. 
By  no  means  all  the  tales  of  travelers  about  strange  peoples 
are  to  be  received  as  data  for  comparative  sociology.  But 
we  are  supplied  with  a  mass  of  evidence  which  has  been 
accumulated  by  trained  and  reliable  scientific  observers.  An- 
other caution  is  not  out  of  place:  The  best  evidence,  other 
things  being  equal,  is  that  gathered  by  our  own  senses;  and 
interest  in  more  primitive  social  types  must  not  make  us  under- 
value the  patient  study  and  analysis  of  social  facts  as  they 
appear  about  us,  but  rather  should  turn  us  to  the  first-hand 
observation  of  our  own  society  with  increased  interest  and 
competence.  We  seek  afar  in  order  to  gain  data  not  to  be 
found  at  home,  and  especially  to  find  scope  for  comparative 
and  genetic  study. 

Anthropology,  Ethnology  and  Sociology. — These  three 
words  have  been  used  with  vague  and  variable  meanings. 
The  word  "anthropology,"  as  it  has  been  used  by  Professor 
Mason  and  others,  is  a  blanket  term  for  all  study  of  man, 
including  human  anatomy,  physiology,  psychology,  the  descrip- 


452  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

tion  of  races,  and  all  other  description  of  the  traits  of  man,, 
and  also  including  history,  folklore,  archeology,  the  study  of 
religions,  languages,  technic  and  fine  arts,  and  investigation  of 
all  other  branches  of  social  activity.  It  is  quite  obvious  that 
when  the  word  "anthropology"  is  thus  employed  it  covers  a 
range  far  too  vast  to  be  the  field  of  one  science. 

This  vast  and  vague  connotation  for  the  word  "anthro- 
pology" resulted  naturally  enough  from  the  fact  that  when 
men  visited  and  described  strange  peoples  they  reported  all 
that  they  had  learned  about  them,  both  about  their  stature, 
form,  color,  and  other  physical  traits,  and  also  about  their 
social  activities.  Similarly  exploration  parties  returning  from 
a  strange  land  bring  back  information  about  its  flora,  fauna, 
minerals,  climate,  and  topography.  These  exploration  parties 
commonly  realize  that  they  have  been  collecting  materials  for 
various  sciences.  Possibly  the  word  "anthropology"  may  con- 
tinue to  be  used  as  a  general  name  for  such  collections  of 
materials  for  all  of  the  sciences  dealing  with  man  and  the 
life  of  man.  There  is  a  tendency,  however,  to  give  the  word 
a  more  definite  and  scientific  meaning  by  narrowing  its  con- 
notation to  the  study  of  the  biological,  including  the  cerebro- 
neural,  traits  of  the  genus  Homo  and  of  its  racial  varieties. 

The  word  "ethnology"  originally  and  etymologically  meant 
that  subdivision  of  physical  anthropology  which  deals  with 
racial  characteristics.  It  has,  however,  almost  completely  lost 
that  meaning.  This  is  partly  because  we  are  less  confident 
of  our  ability  to  differentiate  men  biologically  according  to 
racial  types  and  groupings,  and  so  feel  less  need  of  the  word 
as  a  designation  for  this  special  study.  Anthropology,  in  the 
old  vague  usage  of  that  term,  was  divided  into  two  parts :  ( I ) 
the  study  of  the  biological  traits  of  the  genus  Homo;  (2)  the 
study  of  social  activities.  The  word  "ethnology,"  according  to 
Mason  and  others,  designated  one  subdivision  of  part  one. 
Now  being  no  longer  specially  needed  for  that  use  it  has  slipped 
quietly  across  the  line  that  once  separated  the  two  divisions 
of  anthropology  and  is  used  as  a  designation  for  the  whole  of 
part  two.  It  might  now  be  defined  as  the  study  of  social 
activities  with  special  reference  to  the  activities  of  primitive 


THE  PERSPECTIVE  OF  SOCIAL  EVOLUTION      453 

peoples.  Thus  we  find  Brinton  saying :  "Ethnology  .  .  .  con- 
templates man  as  a  social  creature.  It  is  more  concerned  with 
the  mental,  the  psychical  part  of  man,  than  with  his  physical 
nature,  and  seeks  to  trace  the  intellectual  development  of  com- 
munities by  studying  the  growth  of  government,  laws,  arts, 
languages,  religions,  and  society."  x  Accordingly  ethnology  is 
a  collection  of  the  materials  for  study  of  genetic  sociology,  and 
in  so  far  as  it  includes  the  interpretation  of  these  materials 
so  as  to  make  them  reveal  their  explanation,  it  becomes  iden- 
tical with  genetic  sociology.  It  is  somewhat  common,  espe- 
cially among  German  writers,  to  distinguish  between  ethnog- 
raphy and  ethnology  as  follows:  The  description  of  a  people 
with  reference  to  all  their  varied  activities  would  be  called 
ethnography,  but  the  description  of  a  particular  division  of 
social  activity,  like  domestic  organization,  or  magic,  as  it 
appears  among  various  peoples,  would  be  called  ethnology. 

The  fluctuation  and  uncertainty  in  the  meaning  of  the 
names  which  stand  at  the  head  of  this  paragraph  has  been 
due  to  the  fact  that  the  sciences  that  deal  with  man  have  been 
young  and  immature,  and  the  special  divisions  of  science  in 
this  field  have  only  very  recently  become  clear.  The  word 
"ethnology"  might  never  have  been  coined  if  we  had  realized 
the  limitations  upon  our  knowledge  of  racial  distinctions,  if 
our  notion  of  anthropology  had  been  definite  enough  to  serve 
a  specific  use  and  render  needless  another  term  for  the  study 
of  human  varieties,  and  if  the  idea  of  sociology  had  formed 
itself  in  the  minds  of  men  as  it  has  since  the  work  of  Spencer 
has  been  supplemented  by  that  of  other  scholars  like  Bastian, 
Letourneau,  and  Sumner. 

Some  persons  continue  to  call  the  study  of  primitive  social 
activities  "anthropology,"  and  some  call  the .  study  of  those 
activities  "ethnology."  But  whatever  it  is  called  it  is  a  con- 
tribution to  the  comparative  and  genetic  phase  of  the  investi- 
gation of  that  kingdom  of  phenomena  which  is  composed  of 
socially  prevalent  and  socially  evolved  activities.  The  word 
"anthropology"  should  be  used  as  meaning  physical  anthro- 
pology. The  word  "ethnology,"  in  so  far  as  it  need  be  used 

1 D.  G.  Brinton :     Anthropology,  Philadelphia,  1892,  p.  6. 


454  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

at  all,  means  comparative  and  genetic  sociology,  considered 
mainly  in  its  descriptive  phase  and  with  chief  reference  to 
the  less  advanced  societies. 

Social  Evolution  and  Cosmic  Evolution. — As  sociology  is 
the  youngest  grand  division  of  science,  so  also  the  kingdom 
of  social  phenomena,  the  fourth  kingdom  of  reality,  is  the 
youngest  of  the  four.  As  sociology  rests  upon  the  antecedent 
sciences,  so  also  social  evolution  grows  out  of  the  previous 
stages  of  cosmic  evolution. 

Geologists  declare  that  the  earth's  crust  has  been  formed 
for  a  hundred  million  years,  that  the  record  of  slow  geologic 
processes  indelibly  written  in  the  rocks  is  at  least  as  old  as 
that.  Physicists  used  to  say  that  the  sun  could  not  have  shone 
so  long;  it  would  have  burned  out.  But  since  the  discovery 
of  radio-activity  the  physicists  withdraw  their  objection  and 
say  that  for  anything  they  know  to  the  contrary  the  time 
may  have  been  far  longer  even  than  the  geologists  declare  it 
to  have  been.  Life  appeared  and  began  to  deposit  its  remains 
as  soon  as  the  waters  of  the  sea  became  sufficiently  cooled 
nearly  a  hundred  million  years  ago.  The  oldest  unmistakably 
human  remains  however  are  only  between  200,000  and  500,000 
years  old.  If  we  should  let  the  width  of  a  man's  thumb  rep- 
resent the  time  that  has  elapsed  since  the  oldest  preserved 
records  of  Egypt  and  Mesopotamia  were  made,  the  length  of  a 
man's  walking  stick  would  proportionally  represent  the  total 
age  of  the  genus  Homo,  and  a  line  representing  the  age  of 
the  earth's  crust  would  have  to  be  prolonged  down  the  street 
for  several  blocks.  As  compared  with  the  eons  which  were 
required  to  build  this  habitation  of  man,  it  is  only  a  short  time 
since  he  moved  in,  and  he  has  only  just  now  got  the  use  of 
the  conveniences  of  the  establishment.1 

"A  few  hundred  years  ago  the  parents  of  the  English- 
speaking  nations  were  as  savage  as  the  savagest,  without  tem- 
ples to  their  Gods,  in  perpetual  and  bloody  war,  untamed 

1  It  is  often  said  that  the  last  half  of  the  nineteenth  century 
witnessed  more  progress  in  subduing  the  resources  of  nature  to 
the  uses  of  man  than  all  the  preceding  ages;  allowing  for  all  possible 
exaggeration  in  this  estimate,  the  statement  in  the  text  is  moderate. 


THE  PERSPECTIVE  OF  SOCIAL  EVOLUTION      455 

cannibals;  add  a  few  thousand  years  to  the  perspective,  and 
man  over  the  whole  globe  was  in  the  same  condition."  x  As 
seen  by  an  intelligence  to  which  "a  thousand  years  are  as 
one  day"  the  whole  period  of  recorded  history  has  been  very 
brief  in  comparison  with  that  which  every  reason  leads  us  to 
anticipate  during  the  ages  through  which  our  sun  is  likely  to 
shine. 

We  may  not  look  backward  to  find  our  ideals,  but  rather 
to  gather  confidence  for  further  progress  by  contemplating 
the  hole  of  the  pit  whence  we  were  digged  and  out  of  which 
we  have  climbed.  Bacon  was  right  in  saying:  "We  are  the 
true  antiquity,  that  which  we  call  antiquity  was  the  childhood 
of  the  race."  Apparently  ever  since  men  began  to  grow  old 
and  lose  the  zest  and  glamour  of  youth,  they  have  mistakenly 
lamented  the  "good  old  times."  Memory  and  tradition  dwell 
upon  that  which  is  picturesque  and  pleasing,  but  present  ex- 
perience feels  existing  evils  in  all  their  sharpness.  Already  in 
ancient  Israel  the  rebuke  was  needed :  "Say  not  thou,  What 
is  the  cause  that  the  former  days  were  better  than  these? 
for  thou  dost  not  inquire  wisely  concerning  this."  2  It  is  said 
that  one  of  the  clay  cylinders  dug  up  at  Babylon  among  the 
oldest  of  all  records  of  human  thought  contains  a  complaint 
on  the  decadence  of  the  times. 

The  common-sense  native  to  man  reveals  such  reaches  ol 
time  and  space  as  concern  his  daily  actions.  He  can  see  as 
far  as  he  can  walk  in  a  day,  and  he  discerns  objects  as  small 
as  he  can  handle.  He  can  also  remember  and  foresee  a  little. 
But  the  telescope  reveals  abysses  of  vastness  previously  incon- 
ceivable ;  and  the  microscope  and  the  experiments  of  the  physi- 
cists reveal  abysses  of  minuteness  as  unfathomable;  and  the 
study  of  evolution  opens  similar  vistas  of  past  and  coming 
time.  As  compared  with  other  students  of  evolution  the 
sociologist  "deals  with  a  fresh  young  world,"  rich  in  the 
prospects  of  future  change. 

Social  Evolution  Continuous  with  Biological  Evolution. — 
Organization,  in  the  sense  of  the  adjustment  of  interrelated 

1 D.  G.  Brinton :   Religions  of  Primitive  People,  Putnam,  1897,  P-  I2- 
1  Ecclesiastes,  7 :  10. 


456  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

and  interdependent  parts  so  as  to  maintain  a  status  quo  whether 
of  rest  or  motion,  is  perhaps  the  most  universal  fact  of  nature. 
Such  organization  pervades  even  the  "inorganic"  world.  The 
solar  system  itself  is  such  an  organization  and  such  also  ac- 
cording to  recent  teaching  are  the  atoms. 

The  behavior  of  the  most  complex  and  nicely  adjusted 
organizations  we  call  life.  Such  living  organizations  we  name 
"organisms,"  and  their  organization  is  studied  by  the  biolo- 
gist. Many  of  the  biological  organisms  feed,  reproduce,  and 
protect  themselves  by  uniting  into  colonies,  flocks,  or  herds. 
Some  of  these  animals  manifest  special  instincts  or  inborn 
tendencies,  which  promote  the  correlation  of  their  activities, 
such  as  sociability,  sympathy,  partisanship,  anger,  dominance,1 
submission,  imitation,  and  emulation.  It  is  hard  to  draw  any 
but  imaginary  lines  across  the  continuum  of  nature,  hard  to 
say  just  how  or  where  life  begins  or  where  society  first  ap- 
pears. Says  Espinas,  "If  an  exact  observer  should  succeed 
in  showing  in  the  relation  of  plants  to  each  other  or  in  the 
relations  between  parts  of  the  same  plant  any  traces  of  co- 
operation, we  should  see  no  difficulty  in  admitting  these  studies 
to  the  body  of  social  science,  and  do  not  doubt  that  one  would 
find  that  the  general  principles  of  the  science  applied  to  them." 
Then  stamens  and  pistils  are  married  and  cells  are  associates. 
Espinas  would  not  flinch  from  this  logical  conclusion.  Doubt- 
less the  unity  of  nature  is  such  that  the  simpler  sciences  that 
first  came  within  the  compass  of  the  mind  afford  the  light 
by  which  later  and  more  complex  investigations  are  made 
possible,  and  also  that  these  later  studies  throw  new  illumina- 
tion upon  the  earlier  investigations;  and  so  the  study  of 
organization  throughout  all  nature  is  in  a  sense  one.  Yet 

*To  round  up  a  herd  of  12,000  to  15,000  cattle  it  was  only  neces- 
sary to  make  sure  of  the  presence  of  the  15  to  50  leaders,  for  each 
leader  was  followed  by  a  band  of  from  40  to  100  individuals.  Alfred 
Espinas :  Des  Societes  Animales.  Bailliere  &  Co.,  1878,  Paris,  pp. 
496,  497.  The  sbko,  a  species  of  chimpanzee,  lives  in  permanent  com- 
munities composed  of  monogamous  families,  in  which  all,  even  the 
males,  render  obedience  to  one  chief  (Espinas,  p.  502),  and  they  aid 
each  other  actively  and  evince  strong  partisanship.  This  last  is  done 
by  herds  of  wild  pigs  and  other  animals. 


THE  PERSPECTIVE  OF  SOCIAL  EVOLUTION      457 

we  must  limit  our  task  somewhere;  and  though  we  may  be 
aided  by  the  study  of  organization  wherever  found,  especially 
the  organized  groups  of  lower  animals,  we  will  draw  the  line 
of  definition  for  our  undertaking  at  the  point  where  invention 
begins  to  play  a  conspicuous  part  in  originating  the  activities 
that  become  organized  into  a  self-maintaining  functional 
unity. 

Merely  tropic  congregation  and  cooperation  such  as  exists 
among  infusoria,  and  probably  such  instinctive  cooperation  as 
exists  among  insects  x  result  from  purely  biological  evolution. 
But  as  soon  as  psychophysical  organisms  are  sufficiently 
evolved  so  that  they  can  do  useful  or  otherwise  interesting 
things  that  are  not  exactly  prescribed  by  instinct,  can  remember 
and  repeat  those  interesting  actions,  and  can  imitate  each  other 
in  the  doing  of  them,  then  all  the  materials  are  present  for  the 
beginning  of  distinctively  social  evolution  as  distinguished  from 
merely  biological  evolution.  As  we  have  noted,  all  evolution, 
biological  and  inorganic,  is  social  in  the  sense  of  organized, 
correlated,  but  with  the  above  conditions  fulfilled  we  get  the 
correlation  of  a  new  kind  of  elements,  and  so  a  new  type  of 
evolution.  Of  course  the  instinctive  activities,  especially  the 
social  instincts  (sociability,  dominance,  etc.)  .continue  to  play 
their  part  in  the  more  complex  and  higher  correlation  of  activi- 
ties in  which  the  new  elements  are  involved,  just  as  the  higher 
unities  of  nature  are  in  general  differentiated  from  the  lower, 
not  by  the  absence  of  all  that  had  preceded,  but  by  organizing 
preceding  elements  with  the  new  elements  into  a  new  type  of 
entity.  The  life  of  all  human  societies  is  rich  in  invented 
elements.  The  maternal  instinct  is  as  biological  as  mammae, 
but  every  human  society  has  an  array  of  socially  evolved  and 
communicated  practices  which  are  included  in  the  exercise  of 
the  maternal  function.  Many  of  the  animals  that  hunt  in 
packs  or  graze  in  flocks  have  leaders,  but  the  governmental 

1  There  may  be  no  more  intelligence  in  the  wonders  of  coopera- 
tion among  ants  and  bees  than  there  is  in  the  yucca  moth's  method 
of  securing  the  fertilization  of  the  seeds  its  larvae  are  to  eat,  or 
in  the  amazing  process  by  which  the  beetle  Sitaris  gets  inside  the 
honeycomb. 


458  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

organization  of  men  includes  not  only  instinctive  dominance 
and  submission,  but  also  elements  of  custom  and  institution 
which  instinct  does  not  supply. 

If,  though  gathering  hints  from  lower  orders  of  facts 
whenever  they  have  hints  to  give  us,  we  limit  the  range  of 
phenomena  which  we  make  it  our  business  to  describe  and 
explain,  to  those  social  (that  is,  correlated  and  interdependent) 
activities  in  which  invention  plays  a  part,  we  shall  even  then 
be  obliged  to  begin  with  prehuman  conduct.  Most,  if  not  all, 
of  the  animals  concerning  which  we  can  be  sure  that  the 
social  instincts  are  well  developed  not  merely  as  modes  of 
muscular  behavior,  but  also  as  emotions,  have  begun  to  invent, 
although  with  them  instinct  and  instinctive  emotion  are  rela- 
tively far  more  highly  developed  than  invention. 

Animal  Invention. — The  first  essential  of  invention  is  ex- 
perimentation. A  race  of  animals  whose  instincts  are  so 
fixed  and  whose  capacities  for  random  or  non-instinctive  activ- 
ity are  so  limited  that  they  never  do  anything  interesting  that 
is  not  strictly  prescribed  by  instinct,  cannot  advance  their  life 
by  social  evolution  beyond  the  point  to  which  biological  evolu- 
tion has  brought  it.1  The  remaining  essentials  of  invention 
are  effective  memory  and  discrimination  between  pleasure  and 
pain.  The  animal  that  can  do  new  things,  find  them  pleasant, 
remember,  desire,  and  so  repeat  them,  can  invent;  and  if  his 
associates  can  imitate  him  the  invention  may  become  a  social 
possession. 

Where  the  Rio  Grande  flows  through  a  wooded  region  of 
Texas  with  waters  so  cold  from  melting  mountain  snows  as 
to  afford  no  "food,  the  ducks  have  learned  to  feed  on  seeds 
and  grain,"  and  can  alight  on  a  stalk  of  growing  corn  with 
the  ease  of  a  blackbird,  and  are  quite  at  home  among  lofty 

*Bembex,  the  wasp  that  is  said  to  keep  fresh  supplies  of  meat 
by  stinging  grasshoppers  so  deftly  as  to  paralyze  them  and  not  kill 
them,  is  obliged  to  labor  to  provide  great  stores  of  food  for  its 
young,  because  grubs  infest  the  nest  and  eat  the  food  and  may  even 
cause  the  young  wasps  to  starve.  The  wasp  cannot  step  aside  from 
the  instinctive  path  enough  to  sting  the  intruders  and  be  rid  of  them 
The  inert  things  do  not  stimulate  the  stinging  instinct. 


459 

trees  where  they  make  their  nests."  Here,  apparently,  is  not 
only  invention  but  invention  spread  by  imitation. 

Of  imitation,  as  well  as  invention,  among  animals  there 
is  no  doubt.  It  is  familiarly  observed  in  the  parrot,  magpie, 
raven,  jackdaw,  starling,  and  other  birds.  One  mocking-bird 
is  reported  to  have  imitated  thirty-two  species  found  in  its 
locality.  In  Germany  bullfinches  are  taught  to  sing,  or  whistle, 
tunes.  The  characteristic  songs  of  birds  are  apparently  in 
part  matters  of  art  and  social  traditions  developed  on  a  basis 
of  instinct.  Three  young  linnets  placed  one  with  a  skylark, 
one  with  a  woodlark,  one  with  a  titlark,  learned  each  the  song 
of  its  foster-parent,  "nor  did  they  abandon  this  for  their  true 
song  when  placed  among  songsters  of  their  own  species."  l 
The  elaborate  courting  and  mating  practices  of  some  animals 
are  apparently  in  part  matters  of  social  invention  and  conven- 
tion. Speaking  of  certain  practices  of  the  prairie  hen  and  the 
jacana,  C.  Lloyd  Morgan  says:  "The  young  birds  are  born 
into  a  society  in  which  certain  habits  of  dance,  song,  or  other 
modes  of  activity,  are  already  organized.  By  that  subcon- 
scious and  half-aware  imitation  which  seems  to  be  a  trait  of 
animal  life,2  they  fall  into  the  habits  of  their  elders,  as  their 
elders  did  before  them  when  they  too  were  young  and  plastic." 
If  they  did  otherwise  "they  would  probably  die  unmated."  3 

It  seems  probable  that  not  only  the  impulse  to  build  a 
nest  but  also  the  impulse  to  build  according  to  a  more  or  less 
.definite  method  is  instinctive  with  birds,  but  it  also  seems 
certain  that  the  method  of  nest-building  is  at  least  modified  by 
experience  and  conditions  as  to  material,  choice  of  location, 
and  other  particulars.4  In  the  presence  of  men,  beavers  ex- 
change their  noticeable  abodes  in  cities  for  isolated  burrows 
like  those  of  the  otter.5  The  numerous  animals  that  pasture 
in  flocks  or  herds,  or  that  place  their  abodes  in  groups,  like 

1  Morgan :    Habit  and  Instinct,  p.   178. 

*  By  precisely  this  method  men  acquire,  moral  standards,  tastes, 
and  customs. 

3  Morgan :    Habit  and  Instinct,  p.  227. 

4  Ibid.,  p.  235. 

6  Espinas :     Des  Societes  Animales,  p.  494. 


460  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

the  prairie  dog,  and  depend  for  safety  upon  the  vigilance 
of  sentinels,  may  have  invented  that  practice.  Buffalo  form 
with  the  horns  of  the  bulls  presented  to  a  foe,  the  cows  inside 
the  ring  of  bulls,  and  the  calves  in  the  center  of  the  mass. 
The  courage,  pugnacity,  and  partisanship  of  the  bulls,  the 
maternal  instinct  of  the  cows  and  the  fear  of  the  calves  might 
well  suffice  to  produce  this  result  entirely  without  the  pres- 
ence in  advance  of  any  thought  of  this  geometric  arrangement ; 
but  the  arrangement  once  experienced,  a  memory  of  it  might 
be  added  as  a  supplement  to  the  instinctive  equipment.  Primi- 
tive invention  as  a  rule  is  similarly  built  upon  a  foundation 
of  instinct.  And  the  instincts  of  the  higher  animals,  instead 
of  narrowly  prescribing  certain  movements,  considerably  re- 
semble the  instincts  of  man  in  being  vague  enough  to  allow 
room  for  random  experimentation  and  so  for  invention.  Thus 
in  the  cunning  of  beavers,  foxes,  elephants,  and  apes  instinctive 
and  invented  elements  seem  to  be  indistinguishably  mingled. 
When  this  is  true  the  imitation  of  the  old  by  the  young  may 
well  furnish  a  part  of  their  equipment  for  life,  and  social 
tradition  may  be  established. 

Inventions  resulting  from  random  experimentation  do  not 
imply  the  exercise  of  reason;  even  chickens  are  capable  of 
such  accidental  discoveries.  Reason  is  analysis  and  hypothesis. 
It  picks  to  pieces  a  situation  and  recognizes  the  relations  be- 
tween its  parts,  especially  the  causal  relations  that  account 
for  the  practically  interesting  result.  As  Lloyd  Morgan  re- 
counts, puppies  whose  master  had  crossed  a  wire  fence  threw 
themselves  upon  it  experimenting  in  every  way  that  their 
anatomy  allowed.  One  chanced  upon  a  sufficient  opening 
higher  up  where  the  wires  were  farther  apart,  and  passed 
through,  thereupon  another  imitated  him  and  also  passed 
through.  The  first  puppy  did  not  examine  the  fence  and  so 
discover  the  wider  opening.  A  terrier  searching  for  a  ball 
in  the  street  never  found  it  except  in  the  gutter  and  presently 
ceased  to  look  elsewhere.  He  did  not  first  observe  that  the 
roadway  was  crowning  to  shed  water  and  that  the  ball  must 
roll  into  the  gutter.  The  same  dog  learned  to  open  the  yard 
gate  by  lifting  the  latch.  He  did  not  first  distinguish  the  gate 


THE  PERSPECTIVE  OF  SOCIAL  EVOLUTION      461 

from  the  rest  of  the  fence  and  then  distinguish  the  latch  from 
the  rest  of  the  gate;  but  he  frantically  thrust  his  head  be- 
tween the  pickets,  here  and  there,  until  by  accident  he  touched 
the  latch.  Thereafter  he  remembered  where  to  thrust  his 
head  in  order  to  get  out,  but  he  never  lifted  the  latch  with  his 
nose,  but  merely  thrust  his  head  in  at  the  right  place.  Reason 
would  have  put  its  finger  on  the  latch.  Thus  do  animals  and 
men  make  primitive  discoveries  by  random  experiment. 

Man  and  His  Poor  Relations. — Man  is  not  thought  to  'be 
descended  from  any  living  ape,  though  both  man  and  the 
ape  had  probably  a  common  ancestor.  And  the  lowest  sav- 
ages would  not  too  greatly  despise  the  kinship;  indeed  the 
savages  are  often  proud  to  claim  relationship  with  the  animals. 
During  the  nine  months  preceding  birth  the  human  organism 
apparently  retraces  the  course  of  its  evolution.  The  human 
embryo  at  its  successive  stages  resembles  first  the  unicellular 
protozoan  and  subsequently  the  embryos  of  vermes,  fish, 
amphibian,  reptile,  and  tailed  quadruped.  "The  same  processes 
of  development  which  once  took  thousands  of  years  for  their 
consummation  are  here  condensed,  foreshortened,  concen- 
trated into  the  space  of  weeks."  Thus  does  each  man  born 
into  the  world  "climb  his  own  genealogical  tree."  At  birth 
the  ascent  is  not  quite  complete,  for  the  anatomy  of  the  human 
infant  is  adapted  to  the  quadrumanal  and  not  to  the  erect 
posture.  Even  when  full-grown,  man  still  has  scores  of  rudi- 
mentary organs,  which  as  man  he  cannot  use  but  which  his; 
ancestors  have  required,  such  as  muscles  for  pricking  up 
the  ears,  three  to  five  tail  vertebre,  and  bands  of  fibrous 
tissue  which  in  the  human  embryo,  and  in  the  prehuman  an- 
cestor were  the  tail-wagging  muscles.  Man  and  all  the  anthro- 
poids most  closely  allied  to  him  have  long  since  lost  their 
external  tails.  In  certain  animals  the  "blind  tube"  is  as  long 
as  the  body  and  of  great  use  in  digestion ;  in  the  early  human 
embryo  it  is  equal  in  caliber  to  the  rest  of  the  bowel,  but  in  the 
orang  it  is  but  slightly  larger  than  in  man  with  whom  it 
persists  as  a  shrunken  rudiment,  the  useless  and  mischief- 
making  vermiform  appendix. 

In  the  order  of  primates  the  genus  Homo  stands  struc- 


462  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

turally  nearer  to  the  old-world  apes  than  the  latter  do  to 
the  apes  of  South  America.  Not  only  is  this  true  as  a  general 
statement  but,  according  to  Professor  Huxley,1  there  is  no 
series  of  organs  in  the  structure  of  which  man  and  the  higher 
apes  are  not  nearer  to  each  other  than  are  the  higher  and 
the  lower  apes.  It  is  social  evolution  that  raises  man  far 
above  the  brutes  and  gives  him  his  human  dignity,  that  clothes 
him  and  puts  speech  in  his  mouth,  and  conscience  in  his 
breast. 

The  important  differences  between-  man  and  the  Catarrhine 
apes  are  correlates  of  one  fact,  namely,  increased  dependence 
for  survival  upon  brain  work.  The  use  of  the  front  limbs, 
not  for  supporting  the  body  but  for  manipulation  which  is 
begun  by  the  apes,  is  a  correlate  of  increasing  brain  work 
and  brain  power.  Improvements  in  the  hands  are  selected 
for  survival  when  the  brain  can  use  the  hands.  Adjust- 
ment to  the  upright  posture,  strengthening  the  lower  limbs 
to  bear  the  whole  burden  of  locomotion,  diminishing  the  rela- 
tive weight  of  the  fore  limbs  and  shortening  them  so  as  to 
manipulate  at  the  present  focal  distance  of  the  eyes,  and  the 
degeneracy  of  the  jaws,  no  longer  selected  for  the  purposes  of 
prehension  which  the  hands  have  assumed,  together  with 
increase  of  brain  mass,  are  all  parts  of  one  correlated  change. 
The  excessive  lengthening  of  the  arms  in  apes  is  an  adjust- 
ment to  the  period  of  transition  during  which  there  is  fre- 
quent alternation  between  the  quadrupedal  and  bipedal  posture. 

Social  evolution  begins  among  the  higher  animals,  and 
social  cooperation  heightens  the  efficiency  of  brain  work 
and  renders  more  certain  the  selection  for  survival  of  ad- 
vantageous brain  qualities.  Primitive  man  had  not  completed 
the  complex  change  just  described;  association  hastened  that 
change.  Each  of  the  least  developed  human  races  retains  one 
or  more  marks  of  resemblance  to  the  other  primates,  such 
as  color  of  skin,  thinness  of  legs,  excessive  length  of  arms, 
bigness  of  paunch,  shortness  of  stature,  prehensile  toes,  big  and 
protruding  jaws,  or  slightly  smaller  brain  mass. 

Although  the  beginnings  of  social  evolution  afford  condi- 

1  Huxley:    Man's  Place  in  Nature.    Appleton,  1863,  p.  144. 


THE  PERSPECTIVE  OF  SOCIAL  EVOLUTION      463 

tions  that  help  to  completion  the  final  stages  of  physical  evolu- 
tion, the  two  do  not  long  continue  to  progress  pari  passu,  but 
physical  (including  cerebral)  evolution  presently  reaches  its 
culmination  while  social  evolution  continues  indefinitely,1  that 
is,  the  systems  of  activity,  socially  prevalent  and  socially 
evolved  continue  to  enrich  and  extend  and  complicate  their 
correlated  processes. 

Stages  of  Social  Evolution. — No  thorough  agreement  has 
been  reached  as  to  the  standards  to  be  applied  in  determining 
the  stage  of  advancement  which  has  been  reached  in  the 
social  evolution  of  a  given  people,  (i)  Ethnologists,  like 
Brinton,  Ratzel,  and  Frobenius,  depend  upon  the  general 
impression  left  by  a  comprehensive  description.  (2)  Liszt, 
Biicher,  Peschel,  and  in  general  those  writers  who  adopt  the 
economic  interpretation  of  history  classify  peoples  according 
to  the  character  and  intensity  of  economic  life.  (3)  Spencer, 
DeGreef,  Giddings,  and  Durkheim  would  classify  according 
to  the  degree  to  which  invention  has  carried  the  differentiation 
of  social  activities.  (4)  Steinmetz,  Vierkandt,  and  Comte 
classify  according  to  the  methods  of  thought  and  proof  em- 
ployed. 

If  the  attempt  is  made  to  classify  the  many  peoples  that 
exist  or  that  are  known  to  have  existed  on  the  earth  with 
reference  to  the  level  of  social  evolution  which  they  have 
attained,  it  must  be  borne  in  mind  that  people  who  with  refer- 
ence  to  social  evolution  are  but  savages  in  the  Stone  Age, 
like  our  own  savage  ancestors,  may  be  biologically  of  the 
highest  development  and  entirely  capable  of  reaching  the 
highest  levels  of  social  life.  It  is  true,  however,  that  the 
lowest  of  the  peoples  who  to-day  are  in  the  savage  state 
are  also  biologically  the  lowest  representatives  of  the  genus 
Homo.  The  same  is  not  true  of  the  higher  of  existing  sav- 
ages. And  when  we  are  told  that  savages  are  incapable  of 
prolonged  attention  and  that  thought  quickly  wearies  them, 
we  do  well  to  bear  in  mind  that  savages  can  ponder  their 
problems,  if  not  ours,  and  that  the  power  of  attention  is 
largely  measured  by  interest,  and  that  what  they  lack  may 

1  Compare  section  beginning  on  p.  279. 


464  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

be,  in  some  races  at  least,  not  brain  power,  but  developed 
interests.  And  the  violent  and  transient  passions  of  nature 
men  are  due,  in  part  at  least,  to  the  absence  of  inhibiting 
ideals  and  of  discipline  from  childhood.  They  sometimes 
show  great  control  when  they  have  ideals  that  demand  it,  and 
patient  and  persistent  purpose  when  they  have  aims  that  can 
summon  it.  "Among  the  savage  races  of  to-day  we  find 
great  differences  in  endowments,"1  but  the  classes  or  stages 
which  we  are  about  to  enumerate  have  very  little  to  do  with 
levels  of  natural  endowment,  and  peoples  totally  unrelated 
physically  will  be  assigned  to  the  same  class  or  stage  of  social 
development. 

The  words  "savage"  and  "barbarous"  which  are  commonly 
employed  as  designations  of  the  earlier  stages  of  social  progress 
express  unjustified  feelings  of  race  partisanship,  prejudice 
and  bigotry,  and  if  we  use  those  words  we  must  divest  them 
of  such  connotations.  Perhaps  there  is  no  better  way  to 
strip  them  of  these  false  meanings  than  to  put  them  to 
scientific  use  as  terms  of  classification,  and  to  put  our  own 
ancestors  and  the  peoples  from  whom  we  have  learned  great 
lessons  under  these  headings. 

Sutherland2  proposed  the  following  classification : 

"I.  SAVAGES. — Deriving  their  food  from  wild  products 
of  nature;  therefore  always  thinly  scattered  and  in  small 
societies;  their  lives  engrossed  in  the  constant  struggle'  for 
sustenance.. 

"i.  Lower  savages.  Dwarfs  in  stature;  pot-bellied  and 
spindle-legged ;  wooly-headed  and  flat-nosed ;  wandering  in 
families  of  ten  to  forty;  without  dwellings  and  with  only  a 
trace  of  clothing;  with  the  smallest  cranial  capacities  of  all 
mankind.  Including3:  Bushmen  (South  Africa),  Akka 
(Guinea  Forests),  Negritos  (Philippines,  etc.),  Andaman 

1  Friedrich  Ratzel :    History  of  Mankind.    London,  1896,  i,  23. 

2  Reproduced  with  slight  changes  from  "Origin  and  Growth  of  the 
Moral  Instinct,"  by  Alexander  Sutherland.     Longmans,  Green  &  Co., 
1898,  p.  103. 

3  In   identifying  "lower"   and   "middle"    savages    Sutherland   takes 
account  of  both  biological  and  social  traits.     With   respect  to  social 
evolution  alone  some  of  his  "middle"  savages  are  far  below  the  Bushmen. 


465 

Islanders,  Semangs  (Malay  Peninsula),  Veddahs  (Ceylon), 
Kimos  (Madagascar).,  Scanty  aboriginal  remnants  of  this 
dwarf  negroid  description  are  found  on  the  west  frontiers 
of  China,1  in  Formosa  and  Hainan;  in  the  innermost  forest 
ranges  of  Borneo,  Sumatra,  Celebes,  Flores  and  Ceram.  The 
females  of  these  races  are  often  under  four  feet  in  height; 
Emin  Pasha  measured  a  full-grown  female  Akka  under  three 
feet  ten  inches,  and  Barrow,  a  Bushman  woman,  the  mother 
of  several  children,  who  was  under  three  feet  nine  inches. 
Prevailed  throughout  Europe  thousands  of  years  ago. 

"2.  Middle  savages.  Range  up  to  average  human  height ; 
of  finer  physical  aspect;  dwellings  only  screens  against  the 
wind;  use  of  clothing  known,  but  nudity  common  in  both 
sexes ;  canoes  are  rudely  fashioned ;  weapons  well  made  of 
wood  and  stone;  .wander  in  tribes  of  fifty  to  two  hundred i 
without  ranks  or  social  organizations,  but  tribal  usages  have 
the  force  of  law.  Including :  Tasmanians,  Australians,  Ainus 
of  Japan,  Hottentots,  Fuegians,  Macas  and  other  forest  tribes 
of  Brazil  and  Guiana. 

"3.  Higher  savages.  Dwellings  are  always  made,  though 
in  general  only  tents  of  skin;  clothing  is  always  possessed, 
though  nudity  common  enough  in  both  sexes;  notably  better 
weapons  of  stone,  bone  or  copper;  wander  in  tribes  of  one 
hundred  to  five  hundred;  incipient  signs  of  rank,  chiefs  have 
an  ill-defined  authority,  but  tribal  usage  relied  on  to  maintain 
orderliness  of  life.  Including:  most  of  the  North  American 
Indians,  such  as  Esquimaux,  Koniagas,  Aleuts,  Tinnehs,  Noot- 
kas,  Chinooks,  Decotas,  Mandans,  Comanches,  Chippeways, 
Haidahs,  Shoshones,  Calif ornian  tribes;  South  American  na- 
tives: Patagonians,  Abipones,  Uaupes,  Araucanians,  Mun- 
durucus,  Arawaks,  and  other  coastal  or  river  tribes  of  Guiana 
and  Brazil ;  African  races :  Damaras ;  Asiatic  races :  Nicobar 
Islanders,  Kamtschadales,  Samoyedes;.  Aboriginals  of  India: 
Todas,  Kurumbas,  Nagas,  Dhimals,  Kukis,  Santals,  Billahs, 
Karens,  Mishmis,  Juangs. 

"II.  BARBARIANS.— Obtain  the  larger  part  of  their  food 
by  forethought  in  directing  productive  forces  of  nature;  hence 

Ethno,  Soc,?  >,  178. 


466  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

agriculture  and  breeding  of  animals  are  notable  features,  but 
each  family  secures  its  own  necessaries,  there  being  little  divi- 
sion of  occupation;  yet  food  being  more  abundant  and  more 
evenly  divided  through  the  year,  arts  and  sciences  become 
incipient. 

"i.  Lower  barbarians.  Dwellings  generally  fixed,  form- 
ing villages;  clothing  regularly  worn;  except  in  hot  climates; 
nudity  of  women  rare;  earthenware  manufactures;  good  ca- 
noes built ;  characteristic  implements  of  stone,  wood  or  bone ; 
cultivation  of  small  plots  round  dwellings;  trade  incipient; 
ranks  determinate  but  founded  on  individual  prowess  in  war ; 
government  by  chiefs  with  traditionary  laws ;  living  in  tribes 
of  one  thousand  to  five  thousand,  but  capable  of  forming 
larger  confederacies.  Including :  In  America :  Iroquois, 
Thlinkeets,  Guatemalans,  Nicaraguans,  Mosquitos;  some  in 
Australasia :  Maoris  of  New  Zealand,  Biaras  of  New  Britain. 
Tombaras  of  New  Ireland,  Obaos  of  New  Caledonia,  natives 
of  New  Hebrides,  natives  of  Solomon  Islands,  natives  of  New 
Guinea;  in  Africa:  Kaffirs,  Bechuanas,  Basutos,  Wakamba 
Negroes;  in  Asia:  Dyaks  of  Borneo,  etc.,  Jakums  of  Malay 
Peninsula,  Battaks  of  Sumatra,  Tunguz,  Yakuts,  Kurghiz, 
Ostriaks;  Indian  aborigines:  Hos,  Mundas,  Oraons,  Paharias, 
Gonds,  Khonds,  Bheels. 

"2.  Middle  barbarians.  Good  permanent  dwellings,  gen- 
erally of  wood  or  thatch;  formed  into  towns  of  considerable 
size ;  always  able  to  make  clothing  of  moderate  comeliness,  but 
nudity  not  considered  indecent ;  pottery,  weaving,  metal  work- 
ing carried  on  to  some  extent;  commerce  in  its  early  stage; 
money  used,  regular  markets  held;  consolidated  into  states 
running  up  to  100,000  persons  under  petty  kings;  traditionary 
codes  of  laws  administered;  ranks  well  defined,  arising  partly 
from  individual,  partly  from  family  prowess  in  war.  Includ- 
ing :  in  Africa :  Negro  races^-Dahomeys,  Ashantees,  Fantees, 
Foolahs,  Shillooks,  Baris,  Latookas,  Wanyamo,  Waganda, 
Wanyoro,  Wanyamwezi,  Bongos,  Niam-niams,  Dinkas,  Yoru- 
bas,  Monbuttus,  Balondas,  Ovampos,  Foorians.  In  Polynesia: 
Figians,  Tongans,  Samoans,  Marquesas  Islanders.  In  Europe : 
:Lapps  of  two  centuries  ago.  In  Asia :  Kalmucks.  Historically ; 


THE  PERSPECTIVE  OF  SOCIAL  EVOLUTION      467 

Greeks  of  Homeric  ages ;  Romans  anterior  to  Numa ;  German 
races  of  Caesar's  time,  etc. 

"3.  Higher  barbarians.  Able  to  build  with  stones ;  cloth- 
ing necessary  in  ordinary  life;  weaving  a  constant  occupation 
of  women;  iron  implements  generally  made;  metal  working 
greatly  advanced;  money  coined;  small  ships  made,  but  pro- 
pelled with  oars ;  law  rudely  administered  in  recognized  courts ; 
people  welded  into  masses  up  to  500,000  under  rule  of  a 
sovereign;  writing  in  incipient  stage;  ranks  hereditary;  divi- 
sion of  occupations  advancing.  Including:  in  Africa: 
Abyssinians,  _  Zanzibar  races,  Somali,  Malagasies.  In  Asia: 
Malays  of  Sumatra,  Java,  Celebes,  Borneo,  Malay  Peninsula, 
Sooloo  Archipelago,  etc.;  Nomad  Tatars,  Nomad  Arabs, 
Baluchs,  etc.  In  Polynesia :  Tahitians,  Hawaiians.  His- 
torically: Greeks  of  time  of  Solon;  Romans  of  early  Re- 
public; Anglo-Saxons  of  the  Heptarchy;  Mexicans  at  time 
of  Spanish  Conquest;  Peruvians  at  time  of  Spanish  Conquest; 
Jews  under  the  Judges. 

"III.  CIVILIZED. — Food  and  necessaries  obtained  with 
increased  facility  by  the  cooperation  that  arises  from  intricate 
subdivision  of  occupations.  This  leads  to  great  efficiency 
through  specialization,  and  in  consequence  the  social  organism 
becomes  extremely  varied  in  function  but  consolidated  by 
interdependence.  Steady  growth  of  arts  and  sciences. 

"i.  Lower  civilised.  Cities  formed  and  surrounded  by 
stone  walls ;  important  buildings  elaborately  designed  in  stone ; 
the  plow  used;  war  tends  to  become  the  business  of  a  class; 
writing  established;  laws  rudely  written;  formal  courts  of 
justice  established;  literature  begins.  Including:  in  Africa: 
Algerines,  Tunisians,  Moors,  Kabyles,  Touaregs,  etc.  In 
Asia:  Turcomans,  Thibetans,  Bhutans,  Nepalese,  Laos, 
Cochinese,  Anamese,  Cambodians,  Coreans,  Manchoorians, 
settled  Arabs.  Historically :  Jews  of  time  of  Solomon ;  Assyri- 
ans, Egyptians,  Phoenicians,  Babylonians,  Carthaginians; 
Greeks  after  Marathon ;  Romans  in  time  of  Hannibal ;  .Eng- 
lish under  Norman  kings. 

"2.  Middle  civilised.  Temples  and  rich  men's  houses 
handsomely  built  in  stone  or  brick ;  glass  windows  come  into 


468  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

use;  trades  greatly  multiply;  ships  propelled  with  sails;  writ- 
ing grows  common,  and  manuscript  books  are  spread  abroad ; 
the  literary  education  of  the  young  attended  to ;  war  becomes 
an  entirely  distinct  profession;  laws  are  framed  into  statutes 
and  the  class  of  lawyers  arises.  Including :  in  Asia :  Persians, 
Siamese,  Burmese,  Afghans.  In  Europe:  Finns,  Magyars  of 
last  century;  Greeks  of  Pericles'  time;  Romans  of  later  Re- 
public; Jews  of  the  Macedonian  Conquest;  England  under 
P.  lantagenets ;  France  under  early  Capets. 

"3.  Higher  civilised.  Stone  dwellings  common;  roads 
paved ;  canals,  watermills,  windmills,  etc. ;  navigation  becomes 
scientific;  chimneys  used;  writing  a  common  acquirement; 
manuscript  books  largely  used;  literature  in  -high  repute; 
strong  central  government  extending  over  tens  of  millions; 
fixed  codes  of  law  reduced  to  writing  and  officially  published ; 
courts  elaborate;  government  officers  numerous  and  carefully 
graded.  Including:  Chinese,  Japanese,  Hindoos,  Turks; 
Romans  under  the  Empire;  Italians,  French,  English,  Ger- 
mans of  the  fifteenth  century." 

IV.  CULTURED.1 — i.  Lower,  (a)  Problem  of  production 
measurably  solved,  (b)  Extensive  substitution  of  natural 
forces  for  human  muscle,  and  increasing  efficiency  of  organiza- 
tion secures  to  the  masses  leisure  to  cultivate  mental  and 
esthetic  faculties;  universal  education  the  only  tolerated 
standard,  (c)  Warlike  prowess  and  birth  steadily  losing  pre- 
eminence as  standards  of  personal  excellence,  and  even  in 
cduntries  inheriting  a  military  aristocracy,  high  if  not  equal 
social  rank  and  reputation  can  be  had  on  the  ground  of  wealth 
and  of  achievement  in  science,  art,  literature,  politics,  etc. 
(d)  General  education  and  the  press  render  possible  the 
prompt  formation  and  effective  expression  of  intelligent  pub- 
lic opinion  by  great  populations,  resulting  in  democracy ;  laws 
are  made  by  the  representatives  of  the  people,  (e)  National 
efforts  begin  to  be  directed  to  other  than  military  and  economic 
ends,  particularly  the  promotion  and  general  propagation  of 
sciences  and  arts. 

1  From  this  point  on  we  offer  a  substitute  for  the  descriptions  of 
Sutherland.  . 


THE  PERSPECTIVE  OF  SOCIAL  EVOLUTION      469 

This  stage  has  been  reached  by  the  most  advanced  nations 
of  the  present. 

2.  Middle,      (a)     Problem    of    distribution    measurably 
solved ;  all  normal  persons  well  fed,  clothed  and  housed. 

(b)  Liberal  education  practically  universal. 

(c)  War  universally  disapproved  (as  brawls  between  indi- 
viduals now  are),  though  of  occasional  occurrence.     Limited 
armies  and  navies  of  all  nations  cooperate  as  a  world  police. 

(d)  Mere  wealth  no  longer  regarded  as  success  but  eco- 
nomic achievement  in  the  form  of  invention  or  highly  efficient 
organization   and  management   is  ranked  with  political  and 
other  achievement,  business  success  being  measured  by  pro- 
ductivity of  goods  or  services  rather  than  by  profits  retained 
by  the  manager. 

(e)  So  much  may  be  ventured  as  inferences  based  upon 
existing  tendencies,  but  to  complete  the  description  would  'be 
to  venture  too  far  into  the  field  of  prophecy.    Centuries  may 
intervene  before  this  stage  is  fully  reached. 

3.  Higher.    No  prophecy  is  ventured — a  thousand  or  two 
thousand  years  may  pass  before  the  aggregation  of  progress 
justifies  an  additional  classification  of  the  leading  nations..  It 
may  be  that  the  conquest  of  .diseases  and  physical  defects  will 
have  progressed  so  far  through  the  advancement  and  popu- 
larization of  science  and  the  organization  of  public  preventive 
activities,  that  lack  of  health  will  be  the  rare  exception.    And 
it  may  well  be  that  all  great  advances  will  have  become  known 
to  .practically  all  the  world,  though  differences  of  geographic 
environment  will  invite  different  adaptations  of  life.     And 
the  diversification  of  life  may  have  become  a  world  cult  so 
that  different  populations  will  be  consciously  developing  char- 
acteristic arts  and  activities  by  a  world-wide  division  of  labor 
in  the  practice  of  culture-life. 

The  Stages  of  Social  Evolution  According  to  Vierkandt, 
Steinmetz  and  Comte. — Vierkandt,  taking  as  the  most  funda- 
mental distinction  that  between  nature  peoples  and  culture  peo- 
ples,1 would  make  nature  peoples  include  the  savage  and  bar- 
barous, would  call  the  civilized  and  lower  cultured  "half-cul- 

1  Compare  p.  403. 


470  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

ture  peoples"  as  having  reached  the  phase  of  rational  accept- 
ance with  reference  to  physical  sciences  and  practical  arts,  but 
not  with  reference  to  political,  religious,  ethical  and  other 
activities,  and  would  make  the  culture  people  coincide  prac- 
tically with  the  middle  and  higher  culture  people  of  Suther- 
land. Steinmetz  accepts  Vierkandt's  fundamental  division 
between  "nature"  and  "culture"  peoples  but  classifies  the  lead- 
ing nations  of  the  present  as  culture  peoples  on  the  ground 
that  the  dominating  members  of  the  most  advanced  societies 
are  in  the  phase  of  rational  acceptance  with  reference  to  life's 
activities  as  a  whole,  and  that  a  peopje  should  be  classified 
with  reference  to  its  leaders  rather  than  by  the  more  demo- 
cratic method  of  Vierkandt  who  would  wait  until  the  masses 
attain  that  level  before  classifying  a  population  as  a  culture 
people. 

Steinmetz1  adds  that  other  discriminations  than  that  be- 
tween nature  peoples  and  culture  peoples  can  be  based  upon 
recognition  of  well-marked  stages  of  intellectual  method. 

First  are  the  primitive,  men  whose  attention  was  occupied 
almost  exclusively  with  the  objects  of  sense  perception,  who 
had  no  ideas  about  the  unknown  but  were  materialists  and 
positivists  such  as  exist  nowhere  else,  without  religion  or 
idea  of  the  soul,  spirits  or  fetishes — sensationalists  we  may 
call  them,  whose  method  of  thought  did  not  differ  much 
from  that  of  the  chimpanzees.  Though  traces  of  this  stage 
may  perhaps  remain,  it  was  in  general  prehistoric. 

Second  are  the  people  who  are  characterized  by  the  mytho- 
logical method  of  thought  with  its  naivete  and  procedure  by 
analogy.  Among  such  people  fetishism,  ancestor  worship  and 
animism  develop.  There  is  no  felt  need  of  bringing  concep- 
tions into  a  system. 

Third  come  the  systematizing  peoples.  This  term  Stein- 
metz uses  so  broadly  as  to  include  the  makers  of  the  greater 
mythologies  with  their  hierarchies  of  supernatural  beings ;  and 
also  those  peoples  whom  we  have  spoken  of  as  in  the  authori- 
tative stage  who  do  not  invent  mythologies  but  may  believe 
in  them  and  who  base  their  thinking  upon  the  already  accumu- 

1  Steinmetz :     L'Annee  sociologique,  1898-1899,  p.  / 1. 


THE  PERSPECTIVE  OF  SOCIAL  EVOLUTION      471 

lated  teachings  of  the  past;  and  also  the  metaphysicians,  or 
speculative  reasoners,  having  but  a  slender  basis  in  facts  for 
their  theories,  though  possessing  "a  kind  of  erudition,"  and 
insisting  upon  logical  consistency  in  their  doctrines,  whom  we 
have  regarded  as  the  systematizers  proper. 

Finally  come  the  critical  peoples,  as  Steinmetz  calls  them, 
in  some  respects  a  happier  designation  than  that  of  Vierkandt, 
but  meaning  the  same  as  the  latter's  "culture  peoples."  Stein- 
metz remarks  that  the  Protestantism  of  the  sixteenth  and 
seventeenth  centuries  was  one  of  the  first  manifestations  of  the 
essential  spirit  of  this  stage  of  social  activity.  Protestantism 
in  that  sense  was,  however,  a  rather  temporary  and  sporadic 
phenomenon,  and  Protestant  populations  in  general  have  till 
very  recently  not  been  "critical"  in  their  acceptance  of  religious 
beliefs  and  activities,  but,  authoritative,  have  exercised  their 
intelligence  rather  in  defending  traditional  deductions  from 
the  Bible  than  in  deciding  what  views  should  be  held.  The 
critical  societies  are  increasingly  characterized  by  humani- 
tarian morality  which  recognizes  the  worth  of  men  of  every 
class,  by  methodical,  not  spasmodic,  social  reforms,  and  regu- 
lar scientific  progress  in  the  various  departments  of  life. 

Of  all  the  generalizations  concerning  the  stages  of  progress 
perhaps  the  most  famous  is  that  of  Comte.  He  teaches  that 
human  thought  passes  through  three  stages,  which  he  calls 
the  "theological,"  the  "metaphysical"  and  the  "positive."  The 
facts  which  he  represents  by  these  designations  are  those  above 
indicated  as  the  mythological,  the  systematizing  and  the  critical 
or  scientific  stages.1 

Economic  Stages  or  Types. — Mention  should  be  given 
also  to  these  familiar  designations :  ( I )  The  rough  stone  or 
paleolithic  age;  (2)  the  smooth  stone  age.  It  would  be  better 
to  say  stage  or  type  rather  than  age  because  peoples  still 
surviving  have  reached  only  this  stage.  In  fact  this  is  the  type 
of  savagery  with  which  we  are  most  familiar.  Among  people 
in  the  neolithic  stage  may  be  found  domestication  of  the 

1  Compare  also  p.  374  on  the  classification  of  methods  of  thought 
and  proof.  There  an  authoritative  stage  is  recognized  in  addition  to 
the  three  stages  taoted  by  the  authors  just  cited. 


472  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

horse,  ox,  pig,  sheep,  goat  and  dog;  spinning,  weaving  and 
pottery,  and  even  beginnings  in  the  working  of  bronze  and  iron. 
Vast  periods  of  slow  beginnings  were  passed  before  these 
things  were  done.  (3)  The  bronze  age;  (4)  the  iron  age; 
(5)  to  this  we  must  add  the  age  of  power  machinery. 

These  as  well  as  the  "stages"  described  by  Sutherland, 
Vierkandt,  Steinmetz  and  Comte  are  believed  to  have  suc- 
ceeded each  other.  But  if  we  attempt  to  classify  the  different 
types  of  cultures  minutely  we  shall  find  it  impossible  to  ar- 
range our  types  in  series  in  which  the  highest  have  passed 
through  all  the  lower  forms ;  for  social  evolution  has  branched 
at  various  points  and  the  higher  social  types  have  not  suc- 
cessively passed  through  all  the  lower  forms. 

As  the  biologist  selects  certain  structures  or  characters,  of 
which  cephalization  is  the  chief,  as  a  basis  for  classifying 
animal  forms,  so  Steinmetz  proposes  that  we  adopt  the  eco- 
nomic activities  as  the  basis  for  classifying  social  types.  And 
on  this  basis  he  proposes  ten  types  or  species,  each  of  which 
may  be  subdivided  into  varieties. 

i.  Collectors  of  roots,  berries,  fruits,  grubs,  ant  larvae 
(Bushman's  rice)  and  small  slow  animals;  pasturers  upon 
nature's  gifts  with  only  the  very  simplest  weapons  or  tools; 
neither  hunters  nor  fishers;  "wanderers"  making  no  better 
shelter  than  a  windbreak  of  bushes.  This  type  in  its  unmixed 
form  is  wholly  prehistoric,  but  its  activities  survive,  mingled 
with  higher  activities. 

2.  Hunters.    The  lowest  class  are  also  largely  collectors; 
others  are  pure  hunters;  others  still  hunters  and  fishers;  and 
yet  others  have  various  occupations  as  supplements  to  hunting. 

3.  Fishers.    Including  fishers  who  also  collect  and  hunt, 
pure  fishers,  and  fishers  who  are  also  ferrymen,  sailors,  pirates, 
or  who  mingle  other  occupations  with  their  characteristic  work 
of  fishing. 

4.  Agricultural    nomads.     Pure    agriculturists,    nomadic 
agriculturists  with  whom  hunting  and  fishing  are  almost  as 
important  as  the  raising  of  crops,  and  those  who  combine  with 
their  agriculture  still  other   occupations. 

5.  Lower  settled  agriculturists. 


473 

6.  Superior  agriculturists.     Industry  and  commerce  rep- 
resent no  separate  calling,  save  in  the  case  of  the  smith,  and 
possibly  one  or  two  others.     Hunting  has  passed  into  entire 
subordination.     Far  more  careful  tillage  is  aided  by  some- 
what   important   artificial   means,    sometimes   including   irri- 
gation. 

7.  Nomadic  herdsmen. 

8.  Societies  characterized  by  division  of  occupations,  but 
with  little  concentration  of  laborers  into  trade  centers  and 
occupational   groups.     Here   would    fall   the   Europeans   till 
the  last  third  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

9.  Manufacturing  societies.    The  "mercantilist"  period; 

10.  Societies  of  our  own  type,  business  life  based  on  the 
factory  system,  or  what  Ward  calls  "machine facture"  in  what 
we  have  denominated  the  "age  of  power  machinery."   Exten- 
sive division,  not  only  between  occupations,  but  also  of  labor 
within  occupations,  all  economic  life  included  in  a  system  of 
international  commerce. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

ADDITIONAL  ELEMENTS  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  SOCIAL 
EVOLUTION 

Social  realities  are  so  much  alive,  and  so  continually  in 
process,  that  in  describing  their  nature  it  has  seemed  necessary 
to  include  statements  which  go  far  toward  explaining  their 
evolution.  These  statements  were  included  in  part  under  the 
subjects  of  Social  Suggestion,  Sympathetic  Radiation,  Imita- 
tion, and  all  of  the  five  Modes  of  Variation  to  Which  Social 
Realities  Are  Subject.  Now  we  must  complete,  so  far  as 
possible,  the  general  concept  of  social  evolution.  At  the  outset 
let  us  again  remind  ourselves  what  it  is  the  evolution  of  which 
we  are  attempting  to  understand.  It  is  that  fourth  kingdom 
of  reality  which  was  described  in  the  chapters  entitled  The 
Analysis  and  Classification  of  Social  Activities,  and  The  Social 
Order.  To  place  ourselves  in  thought  at  the  beginning  of 
the  process  of  social  evolution  we  must  conceive  of  the  time 
when  there  was  upon  earth  nothing  that  we  should  recognize 
as  language,  religion,  conscience  and  conscience  code,  govern- 
ment, economic  art,  superstition,  far  less  science,  and  when  the 
lowest  of  the  stages  that  have  been  referred  to  in  the  preced- 
ing chapter  was  barely  beginning. 

Application  of  General  Principles  of  Evolution  to  Social 
Realities. — As  we  have  seen,  the  general  theory  of  evolution 
is  that  the  simplest  and  most  primitive  realities  unite  to  form 
a  situation  out  of  which  a  new  kind  of  reality  emerges  which 
being  added  to  the  preceding  realities  creates  a  situation  out 
of  which  yet  other  realities  emerge  which  in  turn  are  added 
to  all  that  went  before  to  create  a  situation  out  of  which 
emerge  other  realities  still,  until  at  length1  there  emerge  organ- 
isms that  include  in  their  make-up  social  instincts  of  sociability, 
sympathy,  partisanship,  dominance  and  submission,  as  well 

474 


THE  THEORY  OF  SOCIAL  EVOLUTION  475 

as  power  for  action  in  ways  not  narrowly  prescribed  by  in- 
stinct, for  random  experimentation,  for  memory,  pleasure- 
pain,  and  for  imitation.  Such  organisms  being  added  to  all 
that  had  gone  before  we  have  a  situation  out  of  which  emerges 
the  fourth  kingdom  of  realities — massivt  systems  of  social 
activity.  In  the  following  figure  each  point  in  a  horizontal  line 
represents  an  activity.  Each  horizontal  line  represents  a 
plane  of  social  advancement,  built  out  of  correlated  and 
prevalent  social  activities.  Each  perpendicular  represents  an 
invention,  a  new  activity  which,  spreading  through  the  social 
plane,  raises  it  to  a  new  level  on  which  yet  further  inventions 
become  possible. 

t  ~~~ 


Such  Organisms  «^  ^>      Geographic  Environmenf 


An  activity  that  is  imitated  throughout  a  group  creates 
a  situation  in  which  additional  invention  becomes  possible. 
A  society  that  moves  heavy  weights  on  rollers  is  one  in  which 
the  wheel  may  be  invented  and  with  the  general  use  of  the 
wheel  come  various  further  possibilities  of  invention.  An 
invention  that  is  imitated,  from  being  a  point  (the  activity 
of  one)  becomes  a  line,  a  new  level  (in  which  each  point  is 
the  activity  of  one)  ;  from  any  point  of  the  new  level  a 
further  activity  may  shoot  up  to  spread  out  into  a  higher 
level  still  with  still  higher  possibilities  of  further  invention. 

Biological  evolution  begins  in  homogeneity,  a  mass  of 
undifferentiated  protoplasm  with  neither  parts  nor  organs,  a 
mass  of  jelly.  Social  evolution  also  begins  with  homogeneity 
with  the  dead  level  of  custom,  with  groups  in  which  all  imi- 
tate the  same  activities,  share  the  same  wants,  tastes,  fears, 


476  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

superstitions,  and  practices,  and  almost  the  only  differentia- 
tions are  biological ;  some  are  men,  some  women,  some  young, 
some  old,  some  weak,  some  strong,  but  all  have  the  same 
homogeneous  and  protoplasmic  lives. 

Biological  evolution  escapes  from  structureless  homogeneity 
by  differentiation,  and  what  differentiation  is  to  biological  evo- 
lution invention  is  to  social  evolution. 

Cells  bearing  a  similar  differentiation  integrate;  sensitive 
cells  stretch  out  toward  each  other  and  form  the  beginnings 
of  a  nervous  system;  secreting  cells  unite  into  glands.  Like- 
wise by  the  process  of  suggestion,  sympathetic  radiation,  and 
imitation  social  activities  integrate  into  masses. 

Integrated  physical  organs  correlate.  That  is,  they  affect 
each  other  and  modify  the  functions  of  each  other;  if  they 
affect  each  other  destructively  death  ensues;  in  creatures 
which  survive  they  so  affect  each  other  as  to  establish  a 
modus  vivendi.  Thus  they  correlate  into  organisms  that 
function  and  these  organisms  further  correlate  into  fauna 
which  have  a  natural  balance  of  numbers  between  the  dif- 
ferent species.  Likewise  prevalent  social  activities  "accommo- 
date" into  functional  unities  of  massed  activity,  and  these  into 
a  natural  social  order. 

Biological  organisms  may  either  continue  to  evolve  and 
to  multiply  or  they  may  degenerate  and  become  extinct.  Like- 
wise the  functional  unities  of  social  activity  may  continue  to 
evolve  by  further  invention,  social  suggestion,  radiation  and 
imitation,  and  variations  in  strength,  uniformity,  content  and 
phase,  and  may  either  extend  in  prevalence  or  decline  and 
disappear. 

Biological  Evolution  Social  Evolution 

Homogeneity  Homogeneity 

Differentiation  or  Mutation         Invention 
Integration  Suggestion,  Sympathetic  Rad- 

iation and  Imitation 

Correlation  Accommodation 

Structures  and  Functional  Unities  of  Social 

Action  and 


THE  THEORY  OF  SOCIAL  EVOLUTION  477 

Biological  Evolution  Social  Evolution 

Fauna  Natural  Social  Order 

Structures  survive  and  Social     Activities     continue, 

gain  in  prevalence,  strength 

Evolve  or  and  prestige  and 

Degenerate  and  Evolve  or 

Become  extinct  Decline  and 

According  to  fitness  to  evolv-      Disappear 

ing  environment.  According  to  logical  and  prac- 

tical fitness  under  chang- 
ing conditions. 

Invention. — Now  having  gained  some  aid  from  compari- 
sons, let  us  proceed  again  with  perfect  literalness.  By  inven- 
tion we  mean  any  activity  that  is  interesting  enough  to  be 
remembered  and  purposely  repeated  and  imitated. 

The  first  pithecanthropus  semi-erectus  who  in  excitement 
seized  a  stone  and  afterward  remembered  the  increased  ef- 
ficiency that  it  gave  to  his  blow  so  as  to  repeat  the  act  upon 
the  next  occasion  made  a  great  invention.1  And  inventions 
are  not  always  mechanical.  We  speak  properly  of  rhetorical 
and  artistic  inventions,  and  we  invent  explanations.  The  idea 
of  carrying  a  rabbit's  foot  to  bring  luck  was  an  invention, 
so  also  was  the  nebular  hypothesis  and  the  doctrine  of  hell 
fire ;  these  were  inventions  in  the  realm  of  creed  and  science ; 
the  turn,  ta-ta,  turn,  turn  of  the  characteristic  tom-tom  beat 
accompanying  a  particular  dance  was  an  invention  that  doubt 
less  made  gleeful  its  originator,  so  also  was  the  dance  itself,  so 
also  the  hit-and-run  play  in  baseball,  these  and  thousands  more 
in  the  realm  of  art  and  play ;  so  also  was  the  idea  that  poisoning 
war  arrows  was  unfair  and  unworthy  of  a  fighting  man,  the 
disapproval  of  cannibalism,  and  later  of  slavery,  the  idea 
of  taking  the  skull  or  the  scalplock  as  a  trophy,  and  the 
golden  rule — all  in  the  realm  of  approvals;  so  also  was  trial 
by  jury  and  election  by  ballot,  in  the  realm  of  political  organi- 
zation. 

There  are  three  grades  of  invention : 

1  We  do  not  know  that  any  ape  ever  made  this  invention. 


4/8  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

1.  Most  of   the  earliest  inventions  were  of  the  random- 
experiment  type,  which  even  in  modern  times  plays  no  unim- 
portant part. 

2.  But  another   element  was   added  by  the   imaginative 
recombination  of  elements  furnished  by  experience,  this  recon- 
struction of  elements  being  guided  by  reason.    Men  like  other 
animals  lie  down  to  sleep  on  the  lee  side  of  a  rock  or  thick 
clump  of  bushes;  they  often  wake  up  cold  because  the  wind 
has  changed.    They  may  in  time  stick  bushes  into  the  ground 
in  a  circle'  making  a   circular   windbreak,   thus   affecting  a 
rearrangement  of  familiar  objects  of  experience.    They  often 
wake  up  wet  by  rains.     Like  other  animals  they  have  often 
crept  under  the  branches  of  trees  and  shrubbery  for  protec- 
tion from  rain,  and  if  now  they  draw  together  the  tops  of  the 
bushes  in  their  windbreak  then,  by  this  additional  rearrange- 
ment of  familiar  objects,  they  have  the  beginnings  of  a  hut 
of  wattles.    Of  this  sort  of  invention  necessity  is  the  mother. 
Reconstructive  imagination  is  a  great  improver  of  previous 
inventions. 

3.  Every   invention   is   itself  an  additional   element  that 
may  enter  into  the  constructive  combinations  of  imagination ; 
thus  invention  is  cumulative  like  a  snowball — or  like  other 
evolution.     A  later  generation,  though  of  no  greater  natural 
capacity  than  their  ancestors,  '  can  make  inventions  that  to 
their  ancestors  were  impossible.     For  one  with  the  knowl- 
edge of  mechanics  that  was  common  property  in  Stephen- 
son's    day   to    invent   the   steam-engine    may   have    required 
no   greater   natural   ability   than   that   which   was   displayed 
by  the  first  maker  of  a  wheel,  a  bow,  or  a  friction  device 
for  fire-making. 

Inventions  before  they  can  become  group  possessions  must 
form  themselves  in  individual  minds,  and  the  occasional  ap- 
pearance of  exceptional  minds  is  of  great  importance  at  every 
stage  of  social  evolution.  But  "the  individual  mind  can- 
not rise  much  above  the  level  of  the  group  mind.  The 
extraordinary  individual  works  on  the  material  and  psychic 
fund  already  present,  and  if  the  situation  is  not  ripe  neither 
is  he  ripe."  Moreover,  "when  the  state  of  science  and  the 


THE  THEORY  OF  SOCIAL  EVOLUTION  479 

social  need   reach  a  certain  point  a  number  of  individuals 
are  likely  to  solve  the  same  problem."  J 

Attention  Foci. — The  direction  of  progress  in  invention  is 
determined  by  two  sets  of  factors :  wants  and  occasions,  or 
predisposition  and  environment. 

i.  Under  the  spur  of  wants  experimentation  redoubles, 
constructive  imagination  makes  its  short  leaps,  and  along  the 
hot  association  paths  old  elements,  or  old  and  new,  shoot 
together  into  new  combinations.  This  temporary  heating  up 
of  special  areas  of  mental  activity  we  call  attention.  Attention 
is  the  mother  of  invention,  want  is  its  grandmother.  Wants 
may  be  spoken  of  as  primary  and  secondary,  (a)  Hunger, 
mating  instinct  and  fear  are  the  most  conspicuous  of  the  pri- 
mary wants,  the  strongest  urgencies  to  primitive  invention. 
Fear  not  only  leads  to  warlike  activity  and  organization,  but 
also  leads  as  much  to  religious  ritualism,  (b)  The  social 
instincts,  curiosity,  and  the  desires  that  find  expression  in  art 
and  play,  may  represent  the  secondary  group  of  propensities. 
The  social  instincts  prompt  various  modes  of  display  and 
emulation,  ornamentation,  exploits  and  trophy-taking.  Beliefs 
originate  mainly  in  the  practical  necessity  to  have  guides  for 
action,  but  the  richness  of  invention  of  new  beliefs  from  early 
stages  is  increased  by  the  desire  to  reach  an  understanding  of 
conditions  and  events.  Among  the  most  ancient  remains  of  the 
cave  men  are  the  drawings  of  animals  long  since  extinct  on 
bits  of  bone  or  ivory  and  the  walls  of  caverns.  The  tom-tom 
and  the  dramatic  dance  foreshadow  the  opera. 

2.  Crises.  To  understand  the  foci  of  attention  and  the 
budding  of  invention  we  must  take  into  account  not  only  the 
above-mentioned  wants,  or  propensities,  with  which  man  is 
endowed,  but  also  the  occasions  that  bring  special  stimulation 
to  these  propensities.  These  occasions  Professor  Thomas 
names  "crises."  Instinctive  activities  and  after  the  beginning 
of  social  evolution  the  habits  that  are  built  up  about  instincts 
and  supplement  them  with  conduct  almost  as  automatic  as 
the  functioning  of  instincts  and  involving  only  a  minimum 

1W.  I.  Thomas:  Source  Book  for  Social  Origins.  University  of 
Chicago  Press,  1909.  Introduction,  p.  20. 


48o  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

of  attention,  flow  on  unchanged  until  an  occasion  arises  in 
which  the  instinctive  and  habitual  conduct  does  not  satisfy 
the  wants,  so  that  the  propensities  are  unusually  stimulated 
and  attention  unusually  excited ;  then  inventions  may  occur. 
Crises  are  of  two  sorts,  recurrent  and  singular,  (a)  Recurrent 
crises.  Besides  the  still  more  frequently  returning  occasions 
for  the  excitation  of  propensity  (hunger,  fear,  etc.)  there 
come  now  and  again  to  every  group  birth,  death,  adolescence, 
marriage,  sickness,  psychic  irregularities  such  as  dreams,  intox- 
ication and  swoon,  and  crimes  and  injuries  between  mem- 
bers. About  these  foci  of  excited  attention  man  early  build?- 
up  systems  of  characteristic  conduct,  (b)  Singular  crises. 
Invasion,  defeat,  pestilences,  and  failure  of  the  customary  food 
supply  illustrate  what  is  meant  by  singular  crises.  They 
may  prove  blessings  in  disguise,  not  to  the  individuals  who 
suffer  them,  but  to  the  social  evolution  of  the  group,  because 
they  break  up  the  fixity  of  custom,  compel  new  adjustments 
of  activity,  and  so  introduce  periods  of  progress. 

The  Fixation  of  Social  Species. — i.  Invention  that  supplies 
a  need  tends  to  inhibit  other  inventions  that  might  supply 
the  same  need  differently.  This  is  especially  true  of  primitive 
peoples.  For  a  people  who  build  round  huts  of  wattles  the 
very  idea  of  a  shelter  is  the  idea  of  just  such  a  hut  and 
nothing  else.1 

2.  The  psychological  principle  of  familiarity  and  home- 
sickness tends  to  make  the  usual  comfortable  and  satisfactory 
and  to  make  every  departure  from  the  familiar  method  of 
activity  uncomfortable,  repulsive  and  absurd. 

3.  Group  pride  reenforces  this  repugnance  to  the  strange, 
renders    any    innovator   within    the    group    who    attempts    to 

f  modify  the  time-honored  practices,  the  object  of  scorn  and  dis- 
approval, and  causes  the  suggestions  which  emanate  from  other 
groups  to  be  treated  with  hostility  and  contempt.1*" 

1  Some  build  round  and  some  in  parallelograms,  each  after  their 
kind;  and  some  set  the  huts  of  the  encampment  in  a  circle  and  some 
set  them  in  rows,  with  a  specific  place  for  each  'hut  according  to  the 
kinship  of  the  occupants.  The  Russian  "ring  villages"  and  "row  vil- 
lages" may  well  be  survivals  of  these  customs. 


THE  THEORY  OF  SOCIAL  EVOLUTION.  481 

4.  With  the  acquisition  of  a  considerable  body  of  tradi- 
tion, the  ascendancy  of  the  aged  becomes  pronounced.     This 
ascendancy  is   surprisingly   strong   in   undeveloped   societies. 
They  have  no  notion  of  social  evolution  by  gradual  improve- 
ment, but  as  a  rule  attribute  every  completed  invention  to  some 
ancestor  or  half-mythical  personage  of  a  more  heroic  age. 
The  declining  generation  forms  the  connection  with  this  past, 
through  which  has  been  transmitted  all  its  bequests,  the  social 
heritage  of  arts,  customs,  and  beliefs.     Moreover,  through 
childhood  and  youth  the  habit  of  looking  up  to  the  members 
of  the  preceding  generation  has  been  formed  and  this  habit 
holds  men  fast  throughout  their  lives  and  assists  in  maintain- 
ing the  prestige  of  the  aging  generation  long  after  the  de- 
parture of  their  power  to  enforce  obedience.    This  ascendancy 
of  the  aged  is  an  additional  preventive  of  innovation.     With 
the  old  the  principles  of  familiarity  and  nostalgia  operate  with 
increased  force,  and  so  also  does  group  pride  in  those  tradi- 
tions which  were  good  enough  for  their  forefathers  whom 
they  revered,  which  they  themselves  have  followed  all  their 
lives,    and   upon    respect    for   which   their    own    prestige    is 
founded. 

5.  The   fear  of  innovation   is  both  a   natural   dread  of 
additional  uncertainties  in  the  life  already  sufficiently  fraught 
with  uncertainties  and  perils,  and  also  a  superstitious  dread 
of  offending  the  departed  spirits  of  ancestors  whose  customs 
innovation   would  violate  and  of  offending  whatever   other 
mysterious  powers  have  assented  to  the  usual  course  of  living 
and  might  be  angered  by  departure  from  it.     A  man  of  a 
round-hut  building  group  would  probably  shrink   in  terror 
from  lying  down  to  sleep  in  a  shelter  which  he  had  con- 
structed according  to  an  unauthorized  design;  a  man  would 
expect  no  crop  if  he  planted  without  the  usual  ceremonies. 

For  such  reasons  as  these  the  activities  of  relatively  unde- 
veloped societies  are  extremely  fixed  and  rigid.  Each  group 
adheres  to  its  own  characteristic  superstitions,  sentiments,  and 
practices,  with  almost  as  thorough  conformity  to  type  as  that 
with  which  a  given  kind  of  plant  retains  the  shape  of  its 
Jeaves  and  the  color  of  its  flowers.  A  representative  of  any 


482  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

one  of  scores  of  primitive  peoples  will  resemble  in  all  his 
activities  any  other  member  of  the  same  group  as  closely  as 
two  specimens  of  the  same  botanical  species  resemble  each 
other.  The  system  of  group  activity  becomes  a  fixed  social 
species  bound  to  continue  generation  after  generation  with 
but  little  change  unless  overtaken  by  some  crisis  that  breaks 
up  the  traditional  usages.  There  is  evidence  that  certain 
groups  have  thus  maintained  their  social  type  for  many* 
generations  practically  unchanged,  and  there  is  probability 
that  some  have  done  so  since  a  bygone  geologic  age. 

Cross-Fertilization  of  Cultures. — The  one  thing  above  all 
others  that  has  had  power  to  shatter  the  crust  of  custom 
and  induce  mutation  and  progress  is  contact  with  other  groups. 
If  one  group,  being  thoroughly  custom-bound,  comes  in  con- 
tact with  another  group  having  different  ways  all  in  working 
order,  the  people  of  the  first  group  are  compelled  to  admit 
at  least  that  other  ways  than  their  own  will  work,  and  usually 
also  that  some  of  the  new  ways  work  better  than  their  own 
traditions.1  Such  contacts  have  three  results :  ( I )  There 
are  two  complete  systems  of  activity  to  choose  from,  and  the 
competing  methods  of  activity  adjust  themselves  according 
to  the  laws2  of  accommodation.  (2)  New  inventions,  which 
would  have  been  impossible  to  either  people  in  isolation,  now 
arise,  because  of  the  access  of  materials  for  imaginative 
combination,  according  to  the  third  principle  of  invention.  (3) 
A  progressive  and  hopeful  frame  of  mind,  in  which  new 
ideas  and  ways  have  good  opportunity  to  gain  acceptance, 
to  spread,  and  to  become  incorporated  into  the  common 
stock,  temporarily  replaces  the  repellant  rigidity  of  custom.3 

War,  migration,  and  commerce  have  been  the  great  agencies 
in  the~"cross- fertilization  of  cultures. 

The  great  significance  of  geographic  environment  in  con- 

1  Compare  discussion  of  amenability  of  different  modes  of  activity 
to  rational  innovation,  p.  400. 

'  Compare  page  333.  The  word  "laws"  is  here  used  in  a  broad 
sense. 

8  It  would  be  profitable  to  compare  and  contrast  the  above  with 
the  main  teaching  of  Ludwig  Gumplowicz,  in  "Der  Rassenkampf^  Inns- 
bruckf  1909,  especially  pp.  179  seq. 


THE  THEORY  OF  SOCIAL  EVOLUTION  483 

demning  some  groups  to  isolation  and  long  stagnation,  and 
in  placing  other  groups  in  the  highways  of  intercommunication 
has  already  been  discussed.1 

Not  only  in  the  earlier  stages  of  social  evolution  when 
the  bondage  of  custom  is  most  strict,  but  also  in  the  develop- 
ment of  historic  nations,  the  great  blossoming  times  and  places 
have  been  the  points  of  unusual  inter-group  contact,  such  as 
oft-conquered  Egypt,  Syria,  Phoenicia  the  great  gatherer  and 
scatterer  of  culture  seeds,  Attica  and  the  Ionian  Islands, 
Rome  when  all  roads  led  to  her  and  her  emissaries  traveled 
all  roads,  the  track  of  Rome's  armies  through  Gaul,  the  sea- 
ports of  medieval  Italy,  the  Hanseatic  trade  route,  the  path- 
ways of  monks  scattered  from  ancient  seats  of  culture  and 
of  pilgrims  and  crusaders  who  brought  Orient  and  Occident 
face  to  face;  and  now  we  see  the  Farther  East,  Japan  and 
China,  included  in  the  current  of  cosmopolitan  life.  The 
dark  ages  and  places  have  been  those  given  over  to  provin- 
cialism. 

Folkways  and  Mores.2 — We  live  in  one  of  those  rare  epochs 
when  progress  is  believed  in.3  There  has  never  before  been 
such  an  era  of  hope  as  this.  Cosmopolitanism  forbids  stagna- 
tion; the  inventions  of  nearly  all  the  world  at  once  become 
the  common  property  of  many  millions ;  science  deliberately 
prosecutes  advancement  of  knowledge;  new  ideas  bring  not 
dungeon  and  stake,  but  honor  and  fame,  and  the  powers  of 
government  are  employed  not  merely  to  terrorize  the  unruly 
and  to  repel  or  attempt  spoliation,  but  also  to  promote  progress 
toward  a  condition  of  general  welfare.  But  we  must  not 
think  on  this  account  that  the  long  process  of  social  evolution 
has  resulted  from  efforts  to  promote  progress.  That  would 

1  Compare  p.  31. 

2  Words  adopted  in  their  present  sense  by  Professor  W.  G.  Sum- 
ner:    Folkways.    Ginn  and  Co.,  1907. 

s  Social  life  is  so  complex  in  its  nature  and  causation  that  one 
may  almost  declare  that  nothing  is  true  of  man  without  qualification. 
Rare  souls  in  dark  and  stagnant  times  have  believed  in  progress  and 
have  inculcated  a  vague  messianic  hope.  But  it  correctly  represents 
the  general  tone  of  the  picture  and  states  a  great  fact  to  say  that  the 
creed  of  progress  has  been  the  possession  of  only  rare  epochs. 


484  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

be  fatal  to  our  understanding  of  the  facts.  Men  have  not 
set  themselves  to  invent  new  and  higher  wants.  The  masses 
of  men  have  not  believed  in  progress  but  as  a  rule  each  tribe 
has  dreamed  of  a  heroic  age  in  the  past  when  they  were  more 
gloriously  successful  than  now  in  doing  all  that  they  now 
attempt.  The  first  social  ideas,  sentiments,  and  practices  sim- 
ply appeared  as  a  resultant  of  the  combination  of  biological 
propensity  with  stimulating  environment,  as  other  products 
of  natural  causation  arise.  In  primitive  times  individuals 
in  whose  minds  there  was  no  conception  of  social  progress 
strove  to  satisfy  their  individual  wants  and  to  meet  their 
exciting  crises.  And  in  so  doing  they  occasionally  made  inven- 
tions which  became  social  possessions.  These  inventions 
created  a  situation  which  was  ripe  for  still  further  inven- 
tions, previously  impossible.  Ideas,  sentiments,  and  practices 
that  would  not  work  or  that  would  not  work  together  with 
the  previously  existing  set  of  ideas,  sentiments,  and  prac- 
tices could  not  spread  and  continue,  though  according  to  the 
principles  of  accommodation  the  old  was  somewhat  adapted 
to  the  new,  as  well  as  new  to  old.  Groups  with  an  inefficient 
set  of  usages  disappeared,  and  when  group  systems  collided 
those  elements  tended  to  survive  which  were  more  effective 
in  satisfying  wants  or  in  securing  bodily  survival.  Indigenous 
culture  elements  and  culture  systems  are  not  chosen  but 
evolved.  When  contact  takes  place  with  another  group  hav- 
ing another  system  of  social  activities,  a  brief  interlude  of 
rational  eclecticism  may  result.  But  in  the  absence  of  such 
contacts  where  there  is  no  choice  between  usages  and  each 
act  is  compared  not  with  rival  ways  of  meeting  the  same 
want  but  with  failure  to  do  the  only  thing  that  there  is  to  do 
in  the  case,  there  the  existing  usage  that  meets  the  want 
tends  to  be  practiced  by  the  mass  of  men  as  a  matter  of  course 
like  swallowing  or  walking,  and  not  as  a  matter  of  rational 
approval. 

Yet  barbarians  and  savages  are  far  from  thoughtless. 
Moreover,  they  cannot  be  called  pure  individualists,  even  if 
they  are  pure  egoists ;  for  their  ego  is  tribal.  Even  the  desire 
for  survival  under  certain  circumstances  is  desire  for  group 


THE  THEORY  OF  SOCIAL  EVOLUTION  485 

survival,  and  what  we  have  called  the  instinct  of  partisanship 
makes  the  savage  feel  group  injuries  as  injuries  to  himself 
and  group  aggrandizement  as  his  own.  Being  neither  thought- 
less nor  pure  individualists  they  reflect  upon  their  ways,  and 
reflect  upon  them  as  group  ways.  And  so  activities  which 
come  into  being  by  what  is  as  purely  a  process  of  natural 
causation  as  the  evolution  of  plants,  later  are  cherished  as 
objects  of  rational  approval.  Indeed  the  rational  approvals 
which  come  to  be  mixed  with  such  activities  are  themselves 
natural  products  of  organic  tendency  and  environment.  Social 
activities  may  continue,  without  any  element  of  rational  ap- 
proval, or  even  in  spite  of  an  unwilling  and  therefore  partly 
suppressed  disapproval.  But  activities  that  have  come  to 
include  an  overtone  of  rational  approval  are  what  Professor 
Sumner  calls  mores.  Reflection  guided  by  group  interest 
develops  more  or  less  clear  generalizations  as  to  what  is 
good  group  policy,  and  the  definite  and  consistent  system  of 
activities  which  are  prized  and  insisted  on  by  the  group  judg- 
ment as  the  accepted  methods  of  attaining  desired  ends  is 
the  portion  of  social  activity  which  may  be  spoken  of  as  the 
institutions  of  the  group. 

Natural  Selection. — Natural  selection  so  pervades  social 
evolution  that  its  manifestations  have  necessarily  come  to 
the  surface  at  many  points  in  our  discussion.  ( i )  It  appears 
in  war  between  groups  as  a  result  of  which  the  practices  of 
the  conquered  perish  with  them  or  are  suppressed  or  dis- 
credited, while  the  activities  of  the  conquerors  gain  in  con- 
fident strength  and  in  prestige  that  is  calculated  to  secure 
not  only  the  continuance  but  also  the  wider  spread  of  those 
activities.  (2)  It  appears  in  economic  competition  between 
those  who  sell  either  commodities  or  services.  Absence  of 
demand  kills  the  unsuccessful  practices  while  strong  demand 
multiplies  the  prevalence  of  successful  practices.  (3)  It 
appears  in  the  natural  decline  in  numbers  and  prestige  on  the 
part  of  groups  and  classes  whose  activities  are  relatively  ill 
adapted  to  actual  conditions  of  physical  survival  which  are 
laid  down  by  the  natural  physical  environment  which  applies 
the  tests  of  hunger,  cold,  and  disease.  (4)  It  appears  in  the 


486  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

decline  of  activities  within  the  group  even  when  the  group 
itself  does  not  decline,  owing  to  the  practical  test  of  pleasure 
and  pain,  and  likewise  in  the  spread  not  only  of  those  material 
arts  that  yield  food  and  warmth,  but  also  of  such  social  reali- 
ties .  as  promote  mental  peace  and  cheer,  including  pleasant 
play,  fine  arts,  political  routine  that  promotes  instinctive  jus- 
tice, religious  notions  that  allay  anxiety  and  fear  and  minister 
consolation,  for  example,  by  supplying  something  to  do  on 
which  .the  votary  can  repose  in  faith  that  protection  has 
been  secured,  or  that  the  future  is  not  wholly  without  a  clue. 
And  those  activities  which  in  a  given  society  promote  reputa- 
tion and  elicit  favor  are  pleasurable  and  tend  to  spread  while 
those  that  evoke  ridicule  or  contempt  are  painful  and  so  are 
naturally  repressed  or  exterminated.  (5)  A  form  of  natural 
selection  appears  in  the  test  of  reason.  Logical  absurdity 
may  exist  unperceived,  or  if  perceived  it  may  be  little  attended 
to  when  interest  urges  the  acceptance  of  the  absurd  belief. 
Yet  on  the  whole  there  is  a  selective  preference  in  human 
nature  for  the  reasonable  as  truly  as  for  the  pleasant.  In 
fact,  to  hold  beliefs  the  unreasonableness  of  which  cannot 
be  overlooked  is  unpleasant  as  well  as  intellectually  difficult 
and  becomes  impossible.  The  judgments  of  reason  are  most 
readily  formed  in  the  light  of  an  objective  material  demon- 
stration, such  as  the  comparison  between  the  earth  turned 
up  by  a  spade  and  that  turned  up  by  plow,  or  between  the 
distance  covered  by  a  pedestrian  and  by  a  man  mounted  upon 
a  camel,  or  between  the  camel  rider  and  an  express  train. 
But  it  is  necessary  to  observe  what  has  usually  been  over- 
looked, that  material  advantage  is  not  the  only  practical  test, 
for  pleasure  and  pain,  as  these  terms  must  be  used  in  this 
connection,  include  the  psychic  experiences  referred  to  above 
in  the  statement  numbered  four,  as  truly  as  the  agree- 
able or  disagreeable  stimulation  of  a  nerve  end  situated  in 
the  skin.  Moreover,  reason  does  promote  or  resist  ideas 
according  to  pure  logical  congruity  with  other  accepted  ideas 
in  the  absence  of  any  immediate  practical  demonstration.1 

1  The   fact   that   material   arts    and   sciences    are    more   promptly 
amenable  to  reason  than  the  religious,  political  conceptions,  tastes,  or 


THE  THEORY  OF  SOCIAL  EVOLUTION  487 

In  Professor  Sumner's  day  and  at  least  for  the  popular 
mind  until  this  time,  the  prime  necessity  for  sociology  was 
to  replace  the  erroneous  notion  that  the  social  order  is  the 
product  of  the  design  of  human  reason,  with  the  truth  that 
the  social  order  is  a  product  of  natural  causation  in  which 
human  reason  has  played  but  an  humble  role.  So  humble  indeed 
has  the  role  of  reason  been  that  the  first  discovery  of  the 
facts  caused  men  in  revulsion  against  the  former  absurd 
notion  to  adopt  the  doctrine  of  laissez  faire.  This  was  the 
attitude  of  practically  all  the  great  early  sociologists,  of 
Spencer,  Gumplowicz,  and  Sumner.  The  chief  positive  char- 
acteristic of  Ward  was  that  he  reasserted  the  social  efficiency 
of  reason;  his  chief  negative  characteristic  was  that  he  was 
too  little  objective  in  the  defense  of  his  position.  We  may  do 
but  little  towards  shaping  social  situations  by  direct  methods, 
such  as  votes  of  mass  meetings  or  even  of  legislatures  backed 
by  sovereign  power.  But  that  fact  does  not  leave  us  hope- 
less. Our  power  over  the  results  which  are  realized  in  the 
social  order  is  exactly  proportioned,  not  to  our  direct  efforts, 
but  te  our  understanding  of  the  causes  out  of  which  those 
results  must  issue,  and  our  power  to  control  those  causes. 

The  five  forms  of  natural  selection  just  mentioned  are  all 
instances  of  the  adaptation  of  social  activities  to  their  con- 
ditions: (i)  the  geographical  environment,  which  by  cold 
and  hunger  and  disease  exterminates  man  and  his  activities, 
except  on  condition  that  his  activities  be  adapted  to  the  re- 
quirements of  the  natural  physical  environment;  (2)  the 

codes  of  approval,  was  sufficiently  noted  in  the  discussion  of  the 
amenability  of  different  classes  of  social  activity  to  different  "phases," 
especially  the  phase  of  "rational  selection,"  page  400.  Professor  A. 
G.  Keller  in  his  "Societal  Evolution"  (Macmillan,  1915)  instructively 
elaborates  the  proposition  that  rational  selection,  while  it  operates 
directly  upon  economic  activities,  operates  in  the  main  indirectly 
upon  other  social  activities  through  the  trend  to  bring  those  other 
activities  into  consistency  with  the  economic  practices  which  reason 
more  directly  controls.  This  indirect  adaptation  of  the  social  activ- 
ities to  economic  practices  and  to  natural  material  limitations  has 
been  somewhat  noted  in  our  earlier  discussion  of  the  effects  of  geo- 
graphic conditions,  page  33.  Professor  Keller's  work  did  not  appear 
until  the  present  book  was  about  to  go  to  press. 


488  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

technic  environment  which  when  once  produced  is  effective 
in  the  same  ways  as  the  geographic  in  compelling  the  adapta- 
tion of  man's  social  activities  on  penalty  either  of  death  or  of 
pain  and  discomfort  sufficient  to  deter  men  from  the  ill- 
adapted  practices;  (3)  the  biological  nature  of  man  himself 
conditions  his  psychic  life  and  makes  man  shrink  from  what- 
ever is  out  of  harmony  with  his  predispositions ;  (4)  the  social 
environment  which  can  select  for  extinction  with  the  sword, 
or  lack  of  patronage,  or  can  blight  with  contempt  and  scorn. 

But  here  a  great  contrast  must.be  noted:  the  adaptations 
of  natural  selection  in  the  biological  realm  are,  so  far  as  we 
can  observe,  merely  negative,  for  nature  appears  to  depend 
on  chance,  that  is  to  say,  upon  unexplained  causes,  for  her 
biological  mutations;  and  they  are  as  likely  to  impair  fitness 
for  survival  as  to  promote  it.  And  so  to  all  appearances 
nature  can  secure  progress  only  by  selecting  among  those 
chance  mutations  the  less  fit  for  extermination  and  the  more 
fit  for  survival.  But  social  mutation,  that  is  to  say,  invention, 
is  not  wholly  blind.  Its  blind  blundering  is  repressed  or 
encouraged  by  pleasure  and  pain,  as  the  mutations  of.  germ 
cells  can  hardly  be;  moreover,  pain  and  pleasure  not  only 
select  between  the  random  experiments  of  man's  functional 
responses,  they  even  prompt  groping  search.  In  oiological 
nature  necessity  is  not  the  mother  of  mutation  but  only  the 
stepmother  that  destroys  the  ill-born;  while  in  social  evolu- 
tion necessity  is  fertile,  the  mother  of  invention.  It  is  true 
reason  can  see  but  a  very  little  way  down  the  path  of  social 
evolution,  yet  its  function  is  to  make  conscious  adaptations 
to  the  demands  of  environment.  And  that  it  succeeds  in  per- 
forming its  function  is  shown  by  the  very  fact  that  reason  has 
been  selected  for  survival  and  development.  The  greatest 
and  final  biological  adaptation  to  survival  is  the  development 
of  the  faculty  for  non-biological,  rational  adaptation,  which 
does  not  wait  for  the  slow  process  of  evolving  new  organs  but 
makes  tools,  and  conceives  beliefs.  Furthermore,  it  must 
not  be  thought  that  rational  adaptation  directly  applies  only 
to  those  activities  that  control  material  results.  There  are 
other  things  besides  material  goods  that  make  a  great  differ- 


THE  THEORY  OF  SOCIAL  EVOLUTION  489 

ence  to  human  happiness  and  so  are  subject  to  practical  as 
well  as  abstractly  theoretical  tests  of  reason,  and  all  the  suc- 
cess which  man  has  had  in  adapting  material  products  to  his 
uses  encourages  the  strain  of  reason  towards  progress  in 
science,  morals  and  organization. 


CHAPTER   XXVII 
EXAMPLES  OF  SOCIAL  EVOLUTION1 

The  beginnings  of  social  activity  lie  far  beyond  the  dawn 
of  history.  The  fact  and  the  general  method  of  social  evolu- 
tion are  known ;  but  if  we  try  to  make  our  description  of 
social  beginnings  specific  and  detailed,  after  utilizing  as  fully 
as  we  can  the  data  furnished  by  archeology  and  by  study 
of  existing  savages,  we  still  must  present  the  description  of 
details  largely  as  a  system  of  justified  working  hypotheses, 
not  as  a  body  of  certain  knowledge. 

Implements. — The  first  economic  stage  of  which  we  have 
evidence  is  that  of  the  wandering  collectors  or  pasturers  who 
have  been  described,  in  which  every  individual  that  had  been 
weaned  foraged  for  himself,  as  the  chickens  do.  The  most 
primitive  economic  implement  which  survives  is  the  digging 
stick  carried  by  women  and'  children  in  Australia,  and  once 
no  doubt  by  the  men,  for  grubbing  roots  and  overturning 
stones  under  which  larvae2  and  lizards  may  be  hid.  Next 
may  be  placed  the  club  and  the  throwing  stick,  including  the 
flat  curved  stick  that  will  scale  somewhat  in  a  circle — the 
boomerang — a  curiously  interesting  discovery  of  random 
experimentation.  A  stick  is  more  likely  to  hit,  especially 
when  sent  whirling  through  a  flock  of  birds,  than  is  a  stone. 
But  stones  excel  for  crushing  marrow  bones  or  nuts.  And 
pounding  with  a  stone  upon  a  stone  would  soriietimes  chip  or 
scale  a  stone  and  give  a  sharp  cutting  or  scraping  edge. 

1For  the  facts  used  in  this  connection  I  am  far  more  indebted  to 
Professor  W.  I.  Thomas  than  to  any  other  source,  and  more  to  his 
instruction  to  which  it  is  impossible  to  refer  by  pages,  than  to  his 
published  writings. 

'The  larvae  of  ants  are  called  "Bushman's  rice";  grubs  are  ap- 
parently as  edible  as  oysters. 

490 


EXAMPLES  OF  SOCIAL  EVOLUTION  491 

The  first  three  stages  in  getting  implements  are:  first, 
to  seize  the  object  that  is  at  hand;  second,  to  keep  an  eye  out 
for  a  stick,  stone,  bone,  shell  or  other  object  that  is  fit  for 
a  given  purpose ;  and,  third,  to  shape  a  stick  or  stone  or  other 
material  so  as  to  fit  it  for  the  purpose.  Bits  of  stone  and  bone 
bring  within  reach  all  the  great  principles  of  crushing, 
piercing,  cutting,  boring,  scraping  and  grinding,  each  as  im- 
portant as  the  principles  of  wheel  and  axle,  screw  and  lever 
which  our  later  mechanics  discuss. 

In  weapons  there  is  great  advantage  if  one  can  strike 
an  enemy  from  a  safe  distance  or  hit  the  wary  game  before 
it  takes  flight.  And  so  the  knife  blade  lengthens  into  a 
sword,  or  earlier  the  handle  lengthens  till  we  have  a  spear, 
and  the  throwing  stick,  javelin,  and  bow  further  increase 
the  range. 

Play  as  Random  Experimentation. — It  can  hardly  be 
doubted  that  play,  the  activity  in  which  healthy  and  rested 
beings  engage  just  because  they  are  alive  and  because  activity 
is  pleasant  and  too  much  inactivity  an  insufferable  bore,  con- 
tained much  of  the  random  experimentation  that  hit  on  acts 
that  were  repeated  for  a  purpose ;  sticks  and  stones  and  thongs 
and  shells  and  bones  were  handled  and  experimented  with. 
Many  of  the  properties  and  possibilities  of  these  materials 
must  have  been  stumbled  upon.  The  elasticity  of  wood,  the 
possibility  of  flipping  a  pebble  with  a  bent  stick,  and  the  bow 
itself  were  probably  among  the  discoveries  of  play.  That 
some  peoples  never  discovered  the  bow  seems  more  wonderful 
than  that  so  many  did  discover  it.  Other  things  being  equal 
the  chance  of  adding  useful  discoveries  or  inventions  to  the 
social  stock  is  obviously  directly  proportionate  to  the  number 
of  communicating  persons  who  are  experimenting,  and  the 
time  elapsing.  War  or  the  eager  excitement  of  the  chase, 
the  stalking  of  an  animal  that  barely  escapes  the  hunter, 
afford  the  excitation  of  attention  in  which  there  may  shoot 
into  the  mind  the  new  association  between  the  act  which  play 
discovered  and  the  practical  purpose  to  which  it  can  be  ap- 
plied. And  the  excitement  of  war  and  the  chase  continues 
after  the  event  into  hours  of  brooding  and  dreaming.  The 


492  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

bolo,  lasso,  snare,  and  spring  gun  might  easily  have  had  their 
origin  in  the  horseplay  of  the  camp  and  found  their  applica- 
tion to  the  exciting  problems  of  the  chase.  Likewise  spinning 
and  weaving  may  well  have  had  their  birth  from  the  play  of 
female  fingers.  It  is  hardly  thinkable  that  the  purpose  to 
spin  or  weave  was  formed  without  some  hint  derived  from 
previous  purposeless  activity.  If  so,  from  the  beginning 
progress  was  the  offspring  of  leisure  conditioned  by  economic 
well-being,  for  it  sprung  from  the  playful  employment  of  the 
full-fed  savage  in  the  intervals  of  the  food-quest.  The 
discovery  of  methods  of  making  fire  must  have  been  accidental, 
for  no  one  could  conceive  in  advance  that  such  a  result  could 
come  from  clinking  stones  or  rubbing  wood.  Striking  sparks 
in  the  dusk  from  the  right  kind  of  stones  would  be  easy, 
though  the  accident  of  a  spark  falling  so  as  to  kindle  a  flame 
would  be  rare.  Man  may  have  waited  many  centuries  for 
that.  Friction  fire-making  might  first  have  come  as  an  inci- 
dent to  some  patient,  laborious  process,  like  the  boring  of 
a  hole  when  the  fine  dry  dust  of  the  boring  wars  heated  to 
a  flame.  Man  doubtless  was  acquainted  with  fire  as  a  result 
of  lightning  and  other  natural  causes  long  before  he  learned 
to  make  a  fire. 

Cooking. — The  invention  of  fire-making  methods  made 
possible  great  advancement.  In  the  first  place  materials  previ- 
ously too  hard  and  tough  or  too  indigestible  were  added  to 
the  food  supply.  In  the  second  place  fire  afforded  a  reason 
for  bringing  food  to  camp.  The  campfire  was  a  place  to 
which  to  return  and  it  became  the  germ  of  home.  Men, 
women  and  children  ceased  to  be  mere  pasturing  wanderers, 
though  the  camp  itself  was  nomadic,  and  woman  became  the 
fire-keeper.  In  the  third  place — to  go  no  further — the  door 
was  opened  to  mastery  of  metals,  though  ages  passed  before 
that  open  door  was  entered. 

Primitive  man,  accustomed  to  a  raw  diet,  was  indifferent 
as  to  whether  his  food  was  cooked  or  raw,  provided  it  could 
be  eaten.  Livingstone  found  that  his  African  followers  ac- 
cepted raw  and  cooked  food  apparently  with  equal  relish. 
The  Fuegians  crunched  their  fish  raw  just  as  they  came  out 


EXAMPLES  OF  SOCIAL  EVOLUTION  493 

of  the  water,  killing  them  with  a  bite  behind  the  gills  and 
devouring  from  head  to  tail.  The  body  of  a  stranded  seal 
or  whale,  softened  by  incipient  disintegration,  furnished  to 
Fuegians,  Patagonians  and  Esquimaux  a  ready  feast.  The 
tenderer  parts,  the  entrails,  of  a  hippopotamus  require  no 
cooking  for  the  Bushmen  or  Hottentots.  The  Polynesians 
though  they  can  cook  are  so  indifferent  to  cooking  that  they 
are  said  to  eat  their  fish  or  meat  raw  "as  often  as  not."  They 
may  be  right  who  think  that  the  cooking  of  vegetables  origi- 
nated in  the  burning  away  of  hulls  and  husks,  a  practice  that 
has  been  observed  among  various  peoples,  and  that  the  cook- 
ing of  meats  began  in  accident  or  play.  Having  a  fire  would 
not  of  itself  give  knowledge  of  the  advantage  of  cooking  food. 

The  simplest  form  of  cooking  is  just  to  put  the  food,  be  it 
bird,  lizard,  hog  or  dog,  with  all  its  hair  and  entrails,  on  the 
burning  coals  as  do  the  Papuans  of  New  Zealand.  The  next 
step  is  broiling  on  hot  stones,  or  wrapping  meat  in  large  leaves 
pinned  together  before  putting  in  or  on  the  coals,  as  was 
done  by  the  Tasmanians.  Boiling  is  a  step  more  difficult 
than  broiling,  and  even  boiling  does  not  require  a  dish  that 
can  be  set  over  the  fire,  for  it  is  possible  to  boil,  as  the 
Polynesians  do,  by  dropping  hot  stones  into  water  contained 
in  a  hole  in  a  ledge  or  in  a  wooden  vessel.  These  people 
also  roast  with  a  fireless  cooker.  They  dig  a  hole,  putting  into 
the  hole  stones  that  have  been  heated  in  fire;  on  these  stones 
they  put  the  animal  to  be  roasted,  wrapped  in  aromatic  herbs ; 
then  they  put  in  more  hot  stones,  and  cover  the  whole  with 
earth.  In  three  or  four  hours  the  meat  is  so  cooked  as  to  be 
highly  approved  by  white  guests.  In  New  Guinea  rice  and 
sago  were  cooked  by  stuffing  a  cocoanut  which  was  put  into 
the  fire.  The  cocoanut  was  mostly  burned  away,  but  doubt- 
less flavored  the  pudding  well. 

All  this  has  implied  no  possession  of  dishes  except  the 
cocoanut.  Dishes  are  among  the  possessions  that  render 
possible  a  higher  level  of  life.  Among  other  advantages  they 
furnish  a  place  besides  the  stomach  in  which  to  put  food  and 
so  invite  people  to  save  and  provide,  instead  of  merely  devour- 
ing, and  to  have  regular  meals  instead  of  merely  eating  what 


494  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

they  have  whenever  and  wherever  they  have  it  and  then 
going  hungry.  Three  meals  a  day  are  a  highly  advanced  institu- 
tion. Savages  show  an  amazing  power  to  stuff  away  food  when 
they  have  it  and  to  fast  till  more  is  obtained.  Pottery  is  a 
great  acquisition.1  It  depends  on  the  presence  of  suitable 
clay.  Any  hole  in  the  clay,  as  a  sun-dried  buffalo's  track,  is  a 
rudimentary  dish.  Some  peoples  appear  to  have  invented 
pottery  by  accidentally  burning  a  basket  that  had  been  lined 
with  clay  to  make  it  hold  water,  leaving  the  lining  as  a  pot. 
This  is  still  one  of  the  primitive  ways  of  pot-making.  An- 
other way  is  to  coil  long  rolls  of  clay,  that  have  been  made 
by  rubbing  the  clay  between  the  hands,  as  all  children  do  who 
have  clay  to  play  with. 

Agriculture. — The  boiling-pot  is  an  invitation  to  agricul- 
ture, and  woman  was  the  original  agriculturist,  as  indeed  she 
was  the  first  to  develop  nearly  all  the  economic  arts,  except 
metal-working,  boat-making,  and  others  that  are  directly 
connected  with  hunting,  fishing,  war,  or  ceremonial.  Into 
the  pot  she  threw  whatever  promised  to  add  to  the  stew — 
roots  and  herbs  and  the  seeds  rubbed  from  the  fattest  heads 
of  the  large  grasses.  When  the  clan  moved  from  a  camping- 
place  where  these  grass  heads  abounded,  she  took  some  along. 
By  accident  or  design  some  of  the  seeds  fell  on  the  ground 
at  other  camping-places.  In  time  these  grasses  grew  at  many 
of  the  camping-places  in  the  round  of  the  tribe's  migration. 
Ever  she  gathered  the  biggest  heads  and  some  she  carried 
away,  and  by  this  process  of  selection,  little  by  little,  maize, 
wheat,  and  the  other  great  grains  were  developed  from  dif- 
ferent grasses  of  different  continents.  Hunting  will  sus- 
tain but  a  sparse  population  and  while  population  increases 
game  grows  scarcer,  but  products  of  agriculture  grow  more 
varied  and  more  desirable.  In  time  man  is  forced  to  depend 
on  woman's  food  and  take  a  share  in  woman's  work. 

It  is  a  hard  transition  for  man,  first  because  it  requires 
the  development  of  new  aptitudes.  There  are  other  occupa- 
tions which  the  boy  of  to-day  prefers  to  hoeing  corn,  as  much 

1  Australians,  New  Zealanders,  and  Polynesians  were  among  the 
peoples  that  had  no  pottery. 


EXAMPLES  OF  SOCIAL  EVOLUTION  495 

as  did  his  savage  ancestor.  Civilized  life  calls  for  a  new  set 
of  aptitudes  which  the  boy  of  to-day  is  made  to  acquire; 
including  pleasure  or  at  least  steadiness  in  work,  in  monot- 
onous work  that  lacks  the  stimulation  that  comes  of  uncer- 
tainty as  to  what  will  happen  next,  a  stimulation  which  makes 
even  fishing  with  the  mere  hope  of  a  bite  exciting.  For  this 
excitement  men  flee  from  work  to  gambling,  even  when  they 
know  the  game  is  "fixed"  against  them.  If  the  son  of  civiliza- 
tion does  not  acquire  the  aptitude  for  steady  continuance 
in  effort  motived  only  by  a  foreseen  remote  result,  he  belongs 
to  what  Professor  Thomas  calls  the  "criminaloid"  class.  He 
may  have  many  good  qualities  as  a  sport,  but  he  lacks  other 
good  qualities  that  fit  him  for  a  place  in  an  advanced  society. 
But  men  as  a  mass  have  acquired  the  aptitudes  for  work. 
Aptitude  is  the  child  of  interest.  Ex-president  Eliot,  of  Har- 
vard, declared  that  a  small  boy  whom  the  great  man  took 
to  a  ball  game  afterward  repeated  the  plays  of  the  nine 
innings  with  a  completeness  that  would  have  been  impossible 
to  the  president.  The  boy  excelled  in  this  aptitude  because 
he  excelled  in  interest  in  the  game.  A  vital  interest  in  the 
results  of  continuous  and  farsighted  labor  was  essential  to 
high  social  advance.  This  the  necessities  of  agriculture  forced 
upon  man.  At  first  he  was  not  interested  in  scratching  the 
ground  with  a  forked  stick — one  fork  cut  short  and  sharpened, 
the  other  longer  for  a  handle — and  many  savages  are  still 
spoken  of  as  "incapable  of  agriculture." 

Hunger  alone  is  a  master  that  can  teach  the  lesson.  Not 
only  aptitude  for  work,  but  foresight,  saving,  and  punctuality 
enforced  by  the  seasons  were  developed  by  agriculture  as  a 
schoolmaster  of  the  wayward  child  of  impulse.  It  would 
not  let  him  live  and  die  a  child ;  it  made  him  a  man. 

The  necessity  of  developing  new  aptitudes  was  not  the 
only  difficulty  in  the  way  of  adopting  agriculture  as  a  mode 
of  life.  Droughts  and  other  weather  changes  would  some- 
times blight  the  product  of  his  long  toil.  Weeds  in  land 
half  won  from  the  jungle  and  insect  pests  and  herds  of 
beasts  were  unspeakable  foes.  But  the  worst  foes  of  all 
were  wilder  men.  Hunting  and,  to  a  somewhat  smaller  de- 


496  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

gree,  pastoral  life  keep  men  in  training  for  war  but  agricul- 
ture does  not.  Huntsmen  prey  upon  herdsmen  and  both  upon 
the  inviting  stores  of  the  agriculturist.  Thus  Persia  was  over- 
run by  men  from  Turkestan.  Egypt  was  conquered  by  shep- 
herd kings.  The  Toltecs  were  overpowered  by  the  ruder 
Aztecs.  The  Arabs  and  the  hordes  of  Genghis  Khan  thronged 
across  great  areas.  Mongolians  and  again  Manchus  estab- 
lished themselves  on  the  throne  of  China.  And  the  cattle- 
driving  Highlanders  preyed  upon  the  Lowlanders  across 
the  border.  The  same  type  of  conquest  and  depredation  has 
gone  on  among  less  advanced  peoples  whose  history  is  un- 
written. 

Besides  the  education  of  man  in  new  traits,  agriculture 
brings  with  it  a  regular  instead  of  a  precarious  food  supply 
and  conditions  favorable  to  regularity  in  all  the  departments 
of  life,  including  above  all  the  settled  habitation,  in  place  of 
the  old  wandering  food-quest.  Man  gathers  social  treasure 
faster  after  he  ceases  to  be  a  rolling  stone. 

Agriculture  also  makes  it  possible  for  men  to  live  together 
in  large  numbers.  Large  numbers  living  in  such  proximity 
that  the  invention  of  one  becomes  the  property  of  all  are 
essential  conditions  of  rapid  social  advancement.  Again,  agri- 
culture provides  food  enough  so  that  some  individuals  can 
be  supported  who  are  not  food-getters,  but  are  devoted  to 
mechanical  and  intellectual  and  esthetic  pursuits. 

4  Domestication  of  Animals. — Whether  increase  of  popula- 
tion, thinning  of  game,  and  growth  of  intelligence  lead  men 
to  agriculture  or  to  pastoral  life  depends  mainly  on  geographic 
conditions.  In  the  case  of  most  of  the  great  nations,  depend- 
ence on  flocks  and  herds  has  preceded  dependence  on  agri- 
culture. The  peoples  that  speak  the  great  Indo-Germanic 
family  of  languages  appear  to  have  been  herdsmen  before 
they  separated  and  scattered  over  most  of  Eurasia,  for  their 
languages,  from  Sanskrit  to  English,  have  in  common  the 
roots  of  words  referring  to  the  life  and  tending  of  cattle,1 
but  not  many  of  the  words  that  apply  to  plant  life  and  agri- 

1  For  example,  Daughter,  Tochter,  Ovydrrjp  (Thugater)  and 
Sanskrit  Duhitar,  said  to  mean  milkmaid  (duh — milk). 


EXAMPLES  OF  SOCIAL  EVOLUTION  497 

culture.  The  earliest  history  and  traditions  of  nearly  all  the 
peoples  of  Europe  and  western  Asia  are  pastoral. 

Domestication  of  animals  seems  to  have  originated  not 
in  the  desire  for  food  but  in  the  desire  for  entertainment.  The 
cubs  of  slain  animals  are  of  interest  to  all  hunters,  and  not 
seldom  are  brought  into  camp  and  domesticated.  Chickens 
are  domesticated  in  Africa  for  their  beauty  and  their  crow- 
ing. Dogs  following  the  camp  for  the  bones  and  refuse  left 
by  man,  who  is  the  mightiest  of  the  carnivora,  became  regular 
parts  of  the  wandering  troupe  and  were  frequently  eaten. 
Calves  often  follow  the  body  of  a  dead  cow  to  the  hunter's 
camp. 

The  Hottentots  surround  a  herd,  the  wildest  break  away; 
of  the  remainder  all  are  killed  save  the  gentlest,  which  are 
kept  and  bred.  The  Mexicans  at  the  time  of  the  Spanish 
Conquest  had  a  great  annual  animal  round-up  when  they 
surrounded  a  large  area,  drove  the  included  animals  toward 
the  center,  slaughtered  many,  but  kept  alive  many  females 
and  the  finest  males. 

Reveling  in  flesh  food,  in  fat,  marrow  and  blood,  is  char- 
acteristic of  the  earliest  remaining  hero  tales  and  folksongs  of 
pastoral  peoples.' 

Survivals  of  cannibalism  are  so  widespread  that  many 
assert  that  it  has  been  at  some  time  a  practice  of  every  race. 
Cannibalism  sometimes  reasserts  itself  among  the  civilized 
under  pressure  of  starvation.  Horror  and  disgust,  like  tastes, 
admirations,  and  moral  approvals,  are  largely  regulated  by 
the  principle  of  familiarity  and  by  social  radiation.  Africans 
of  the  Gold  Coast  having  passed  from  hunting  to  agriculture 
have  been  known  to  get  so  hungry  for  meat  as  to  cast  lots 
in  a  friendly  way  to  see  which  of  their  number  should  be 
eaten.  Cannibalism  is  by  no  means  confined  to  the  lowest 
races,  but  appears  to  be  much  more  characteristic  of  peoples 
more  advanced,  such  as  the  Fijians,  New  Caledonians  and 
ancient  Mexicans.  Cheap  lives  are  the  ones  that  have  been 
observed  to  be  most  often  sacrificed,  women,  children,  espe- 
cially deformed  children,  the  aged,  the  sick  and  criminals. 
The  Maori  eat  only  adulterers.  But  cannibalistic  feasts  of 


498  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

religious  sacrifice  require  the  best,  a  youth.  The  desire  for 
an  easily  accessible  and  desirable  food  that  would  otherwise 
go  to  waste  is  by  no  means  the  only  motive  for  cannibalism ; 
religion  and  superstition  often  furnish  the  motive.  Eating 
the  heart  of  a  brave  man,  the  brain  of  a  crafty  one,  or  some 
part  of  a  witch  whose  qualities  and  powers  are  desired, 
illustrate  this  second  class  of  motives  as  they  are  exhibited 
in  regions  scattered  from  the  equator  to  the  Arctics.  Drink- 
ing the  blood  which  the  drinker  himself  or  herself  has  lost  is 
not  unknown  to-day  among  ignorant  Europeans.  And  the 
dead,  especially  parents,  may  be  eaten,  as  in  Thibet,  as  a 
mark  of  honor,  instead  of  consigning  their  bodies  to  the  birds 
and  beasts  or  to  the  worms — an  extreme  example  of  the 
variability  of  sentiment  as  molded  by  social  radiation. 

Pastoral  life  usually  implies  wandering  from  place  to 
place  to  obtain  food,  grass,  and  water,  in  groups  relatively 
small  though  much  larger  than  could  be  sustained  by  the 
methods  of  the  primitive  "wanderers."  To  mark  the  contrast 
these  peripatetic  pastoral  groups  are  called  not  "wanderers" 
but  "nomads."  This  mode  of  life  compels  a  close  organiza- 
tion. The  basis  of  this  organization  is  the  family,  though 
the  group  may  "adopt"  any  whom  it  will  into  its  brotherhood. 
When  the  flocks  become  too  numerous  to  find  common  feed- 
ing- and  watering-places,  the  group  separates  and  we  have 
then  two  clans,  or  "gentes"  of  the  same  tribe.  The  flocks 
and  herds  are  common  property  of  the  group  but  the  patriarch, 
or  ruling  father,1  has  disposing  and  governing  power  over 
the  property  as  well  as  over  the  labor  and  conduct  of  the 
members  of  the  group.  The  spirits  of  heroic  patriarchs  glori- 
fied in  tradition  are  usually  worshiped  as  clan  divinities.  A 
tribe  may  also  have  one  or  more  divinities,  common  to  all  its 
clans.  Each  clan  expects  the  members  of  another  clan  to  be 
loyal  to  the  divinities  of  that  other  clan.  And  adoption  from 
one  tribe  or  clan  to  another  means  acceptance  of  this  filial 
relation  toward  the  divinities  of  the  adopting  clan.  The  cere- 
mony of  marriage  is  such  an  adoption  if  the  two  who  are 
joined  are  not  already  of  the  same  clan.  Shepherds  and  fight- 

aAbram  means  "great  father"  or  patriarch. 


EXAMPLES  OF  SOCIAL  EVOLUTION  499 

ers  are  desired,  recruits  strengthen  the  group,  children  are 
a  welcome  blessing  and  polygamy  is  usually  approved  wher- 
ever men  are  sufficiently  rich  and  powerful  to  practice  it. 
Such  were  the  early  Greeks,  Romans,  Semites,  and  probably 
also  the  earliest  Teutons. 

Personal  Adornment. — The  motive  that  led  to  the  wearing 
of  clothes  apparently  was  neither  modesty  nor  desire  for 
warmth,  but  the  desire  for  adornment  and  distinction.  Even 
now  let  the  reader  ask  himself  whether  appearance  is  not  the 
chief  consideration  in  the  selection  of  a  suit  or  hat  or  even  a 
pair  of  shoes.  By  nature  human  beings  are  not  ashamed  at 
being  naked.  This  form  of  modesty  is  a  result  of  wearing 
clothes,  and  is  a  socially  developed  and  socially  radiated  senti- 
ment. And  like  other  social  sentiments  it  varies  among  people 
who  have  developed  it;  thus  the  Japanese  are  shocked  to  see 
the  nude  in  works  of  art,  but  not  to  see  men  and  women 
bathing  together  in  complete  nakedness ;  for  a  Chinese  woman 
no  exposure  could  be  more  indecent  than  to  show  her  foot; 
for  a  Mussulman  woman,  no  other  exposure  so  indecent  as 
to  show  her  face,  and  on  the  Orinoco  both  sexes  feel  shame 
unless  painted ;  all  of  which  we  may  better  comprehend  if  we 
remember  that  for  American  women  the  costume  of  the 
bathing-beach  or  the  ballroom  would  be  disgraceful  on  the 
street. 

People  have  desired  not  only  that  their  appearance  be 
beautiful,  but  still  more  that  it  be  distinguished,  or  even 
imposing  and  terrible.  The  story  of  man's  self-adornment 
may  well  begin  with  painting.  Grease  paints  are  no  inven- 
tion of  the  modern  drama.  The  Australian  gloriously  stripes 
his  face,  breast,  and  legs  with  red,  white,  and  yellow  made  by 
mixing  grease  chiefly  with  ashes  and  ochre.  Fuegians  and 
Patagonians  paint  red,  white,  and  black  images  on  their 
bodies.  Hottentots  and  many  other  Africans  are  remarkable 
for  such  decorations,  and  some  of  them  paint  tribal  designa- 
tions on  their  bodies.  Red  is  the  usual  favorite  color  of 
savage  and  barbarous  peoples,  but  in  some  places  where  a 
good  blue  dye  is  available,  blue  is  much  the  fashion.  Men 
can  be  seen  with  magnificent  azure  beards,  and  women  with 


500 

hair  stained  blue,  and  a  full  toilette  may  include  hair  and 
eyebrows  stained  with  indigo,  lashes  black  with  kohl,  lips 
yellow  and  hands  and  feet  red  with  henna. 

Close  akin  to  painting  are  the  more  permanent  adorn- 
ments of  tattooing.  The  Esquimaux  tattoo  by  drawing  under 
the  skin  needles *  and  threads  that  have  been  soaked  with 
oil  and  soot.  The  tattooing  of  Polynesians  made  by  inserting 
pigments  in  skin-punctures  shows  great  elaboration  of  design 
and  nicety  of  workmanship. 

Mutilations  are  a  means  of  improving  on  common  nature 
and  securing  distinction  of  appearance.  Apparently  the  most 
primitive  form  of  this  method  is  making  cuts,  most  often 
on  the  breast  and  arms,  which  are  kept  from  healing  until 
very  conspicuous  permanent  results  are  assured.  Australians 
and  Tasmanians  wore  these  scars  parallel  like  stripes; 
Papuans  made  them  criss-cross ;  the  New  Zealanders  used  both 
patterns.  Australians  knock  out  one  or  two  upper  front  teeth 
as  part  of  the  ceremony  of  initiation  into  manhood.  Others 
file  the  front  teeth  into  striking  shapes.  Melanesians  and 
many  others  2  pierce  the  septum  of  the  nose  so  that  it  will 
receive  an  ornament  of  wood  or  bone.  Many  tribes  scat- 
tered from  South  America  to  Alaska,  and  central  Africa, 
slit  the  underlip  in  order  to  insert  ornaments  some  of  which 
are  exceedingly  effective,  if  not  to  our  eyes  beautiful.  The 
lobe  of  the  ear  is  pierced  for  the  same  purpose,  a  practice 
which  till  recently  was  common  among  us  and  which  may 
become  so  again.  Circumcision  is  practiced  by  both  black 
and  white  Mussulmans  in  both  Asia  and  Africa,  by  Kafirs,  by 
the  Hovas  of  Madagascar,  by  Australians,  Papuans,  New 
Caledonians,  and  others.  Deforming  the  heads  of  infants 
by  bandages,  by  boards,  and  by  baskets  (as  tight  as  the  web 
of  custom  that  shapes  the  inside  of  their  heads)  was  prac- 
ticed in  ancient  Peru,  by  the  Chacta,  Natchez,  and  Chinook 
Indians,  in  Tahiti  and  many  of  the  Polynesian  Islands,  in 
Sumatra,  and  is  still  more  or  less  in  vogue  in  different  locali- 
ties in  Europe,  notably  in  the  neighborhood  of  Toulouse.  The 

1  Bone  needles  are  part  of  the  apparatus  of  savage  life. 
"The  Papuans  carry  this  to  an  extreme. 


EXAMPLES  OF  SOCIAL  EVOLUTION  501 

deforming  of  the  feet  by  Chinese  women  is  not  confined,  as 
often  has  been  stated,  to  the  upper  classes  who  do  not  have 
to  work,  but  the  desire  to  imitate  the  classes  that  enjoy 
prestige  has  induced  working-women  to  adopt  the  practice, 
and  Chinese  women  with  crippled  feet  may  be  seen  hitching 
along  on  their  hands  in  the  fields  or  shuffling  on  their  knees 
at  their  household  tasks.  The  practice  may  have  originated 
in  a  desire  for  daintiness,  a  motive  that  leads  nearly  all  shoe- 
wearing  peoples  to  cripple  their  feet  more  or  less,  reenforced 
by  desire  to  differ  from  the  common  people  whose  broad  feet 
were  unconfined  by  shoes.  It  has  been  perpetuated  as  a  badge 
of  leisure.  The  long  fingernails  of  the  Chinese  are  a  means 
of  proclaiming  membership  in  the  class  that  devolves  all 
manual  tasks  upon  servants.  The  discussion  of  personal 
mutilations  would  not  be  complete  without  allusion  to  the 
corset,  the  abuses  of  which  have  been  greatly  modified  in 
this  generation. 

The  wonderfully  elaborate  and  fantastic  hair-dressing  of 
human  beings,  from  the  Zulu  and  the  Papuan  to  the  English 
judge  and  the  Parisian  belle,  is  a  part  of  the  story  upon  which 
we  are  engaged.  Among  many  nature  peoples  a  pillow  that 
enables  one  to  sleep  without  disturbing  the  coiffure  is  one  of 
the  most  treasured  possessions.  The  Japanese  still  use  such 
a  pillow — a  tiny  stool  supporting  a  piece  of  plank  with  a  semi- 
circular notch  in  the  edge  of  it  in  which  to  place  the  neck  so 
that  the  head  is  sustained  by  the  neck  alone.  This  device  is 
in  the  same  class  with  the  mustache  trainer  in  which  some 
German  gentlemen  sleep. 

The  Desire  for  Visible  Distinction* — The  motives  which 
have  been  discussed  under  this  topic  are  by  no  means  peculiar 
to  the  "lower  races."  Our  European  ancestors  were  not  free 
from  tattooing  and  painting.  Among  the  Thracians,  nobles 
were  once  distinguished  from  commoners  by  their  painted 
bodies.  Celts  and  Illyrians  tattooed  in  black  and  blue,  Picts, 
Britons,  and  Germans  painted  their  bodies;  especially  with  blue. 
According  to  Pliny,  in  the  early  days  of  Rome  conquerors 
painted  their  bodies  red  on  the  day  of  victory. j  And  one 
who  turns  the  pages  of  an  illustrated  history  of  the  fashions 


502  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

of  Europe  and  America,  during  the  last  century,  will  see  ex- 
hibited the  same  propensities. 

We  must  remember  that  in  matters  of  personal  adorn- 
ment desire  for  distinction  mingles  with  desire  for  beauty 
and  helps  to  explain  the  extravagances.  How  strong  these 
motives  are  is  exhibited  by  the  pain  and  long-continued  dis- 
comfort which  people  have  endured  and  which  they  have 
.  solicitously  inflicted  on  their  children,  the  discomforts  of 
tight  shoes  and  corsets,  and  the  tortures  of  scar-making,  tattoo- 
ing, and  foot-binding,  and  the  inconvenience  of  women  of 
Egypt  and  India  laboring  with  fifty  pounds  of  brass  or  iron 
on  wrists  and  ankles,  and  the  women  of  China  hitching  on 
their  hands  or  shuffling  on  their  knees  through  lives  of  toil. 
The  strength  of  these  motives  is  probably  eyen  more  power- 
fully exhibited  by  the  terrific  economic  cost  at  which  they 
are  gratified.  A  great  part  of  human  labor  has  been — and 
is  no  less  to-day — expended  for  adventitious,  physical  prestige. 
It  may  be  hoped  that  this  terrific  waste  will  some  day  be 
curbed  by  sumptuary  laws  formulated  in  the  interest,  not  of 
exclusive  privilege  but  of  democracy,  and  enforced  not  by 
government,  but  by  public  opinion  as  other  laws  of  etiquette 
are  enforced.  Then  attire  will  be  governed  by  regard  for 
beauty,  health  and  convenience,  and  its  prostitution  as  a  means 
of  distinction  will  be  outlawed  among  the  well-bred.  How- 
ever, the  desire  for  individual  distinction  will  not  die  out, 
and  if  we  refuse  its  silly  and  wasteful  gratification  we  shall 
be  obliged  to  find  some  better  way  of  meeting  its  demand. 
If  so  one  of  the  most  powerful  of  all  human  motives  will  be 
turned  in  the  directions  sanctioned  by  public  opinion. 

Esthetic  Conventionality. — But  beauty  as  well  as  distinc- 
tion has  been  sought  in  nearly  all  of  this  mutilation  and 
arraying  of  the  person,  from  the  women  of  the  miserable 
Tasmanians  and  Veddahs,  with  their  necklaces  of  shells  and 
flowers  twined  in  their  hair,  on  and  up  throughout  the  whole , 
scale  of  societies.  And  most  striking  is  it  to  observe  what 
monstrosities  have  actually  been  beautiful  to  beholders.  Pres- 
tige can  awaken  the  sense  of  beauty  as  well  as  command 
belief;  social  radiation  can  communicate  the  feeling  that  ob- 


EXAMPLES  OF  SOCIAL  EVOLUTION  503 

jects  are  beautiful  as  well  as  suggestion  can  communicate 
ideas.  Familiarity,  the  prestige  of  the  great  within  the  group, 
and  the  desire  to  admire  their  own  type  make  each  people 
tend  to  admire  their  own  kind;  blackness  is  admired  among 
blacks,  the  blacker  the  more  beautiful,  and  yellow  skin  and 
slanting  eyes  with  a  visible  membrane  among  Mongolians. 
Moreover  the  strange  colors  applied  with  paint,  the  mutilations 
and  septum  ornaments  and  protruding  labrets  and  horns  of 
hair  are  regarded  as  beautiful,  even  as  were  the  monstrosities 
of  style  that  our  grandmothers  and  great-great-grandmothers 
were.  Some  of  our  most  beautiful  toilets  may  look  just  as 
absurd  and  hideous  as  the  latter  to  our  children's  children. 
The  artistic  conventionalities  of  China  and  Japan  were  looked 
upon  by  our  grandfathers  as  curiosities  and  largely  as  absurdi- 
ties ;  it  has  become  a  mark  of  culture  to  appreciate  their  con- 
ventionalities in  addition  to  those  which  we.  have  inherited 
from  the  Greeks. 

Metaphysicians  formerly  spent  a  great  deal  of  thought  and 
writing  in  the  attempt  to  reach  an  abstract  definition  of  "the 
beautiful."  Beauty  is  a  subjective  experience  and  what  ob- 
jects shall  awaken  that  experience  is  determined  largely  by 
social  influence.  Even  economic  value  is  now  recognized  to 
be  mainly  a  mental  attitude  toward  commodities.  Two  dishes 
of  pottage,  though  just  alike,  were  not  of  equal  value  to  Esau 
full  and  to  Esau  hungry.  And  a  garment  uninjured,  but 
hung  away  till  it  is  out  of  style  may  lose  both  its  economic 
value  and  its  beauty  because  the  subjective  attitude  toward 
it  has  changed.  Beauty,  like  value,  has  a.  subjective  and  an 
objective  pole  and  the  objective  pole  gets  its  charge  of 
economic  or  esthetic  value  from  the  subjective  pole  at  least 
as  much  as  the  subjective  pole  receives  it  from  the  objective. 

This  is  not  saying  that  the  objective  has  no  esthetic  im- 
portance or  that  there  is  nothing  in  the  nature  of  things  to 
help  in  deciding  what  shall  be  regarded  as  beautiful,  except 
social  influence.  On  the  contrary  the  natural  elements  which 
may  help  to  arouse  the  experience  of  beauty  are  numerous, 
varied,  and  even  contradictory. 

The  beauty  of  nature  makes  the  most  universal  esthetic 


504  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

appeal.  This  seems  to  be  a  case  of  adaptation  to  environ- 
ment. Elevation  and  serenity  of  mood  has  a  biological  value, 
and  it  would  be  dreadful  if  the  aspects  of  nature  were  to  us 
harsh  and  disquieting.  We  have  become  at  home  in  our 
terrestrial  habitation.  The  principle  of  familiarity  is  at  work 
to  make  us  at  home  in  any  surroundings  to  which  we  are 
long  exposed;  in  a  strange  environment  we  miss  the  result 
of  its  gentle  ministry  and  grow  homesick,  and  are  deeply 
moved  by  one  familiar  sight.  The  principle  of  familiarity  is 
perhaps  the  most  fundamental  element  in  beauty  aside  from 
conventionality  to  which  it  is  not  unrelated.  But  there  is 
also  a  principle  of  novelty  which  helps  to  make  objects 
beautiful. 

The  other  objective  principles  of  beauty  fall  likewise  into 
contradictory  pairs.  Thus  obvious  adaptation  to  dear  human 
uses  is  the  first  variant  from  familiarity  as  an  element  in 
beauty,  but  remoteness  from  possible  use  can  also  enhance 
beauty.  Art  vases  are  sometimes  made  solid  so  that  they 
can  contain  nothing,  in  order  to  heighten  their  beauty  and 
proclaim  that  their  beauty  is  their  sufficient  cause  for  being. 
The  "romantic"  which  plays  so  large  a  role  in  art  is  an 
effort  to  get  away  from  life's  common  uses  and  its  drudgery, 
as  well  as  an  effort  to  set  the  imagination  free  from  the  bonds 
of  knowledge. 

Symmetry  is  one  of  the  most  generally  recognized  ele- 
ments in  objective  beauty,  but  asymmetry  is  also  an  element" 
of  beauty;  a  Japanese  drawing  of  a  flower  owes  half  its 
charm  to  the  asymmetry  with  which  it  is  placed  upon  the 
card  and  would  be  almost  valueless  if  the  flower  were  primly 
placed  in  the  middle.  Subtle  asymmetry  is  a  chief,  if  not  the 
chief,  element  in  Japanese  conventionality.  Symmetry  seems 
the  most  essential  element  in  good  architecture,  yet  baroque 
architecture  gets  its  character  largely  from  asymmetries. 

Simplicity,  according  to  Ruskin,  is  one  of  the  prime  quali- 
ties of  beautiful  art;  Greek  architecture  was  so  simple  in 
design  that  it  made  its  glorious  impression  at  a  blow;  but 
an  arabesque  is  effective  because  of  its  intricacy;  Wagnerian 
involution  adds  grandeur  and  lasting  magic  not  possessed 


EXAMPLES  OF  SOCIAL  EVOLUTION  505 

by  the  simple  melody  that  catches  the  ear  by  revealing  all  it 
contains  at  the  first  hearing,  and  Gothic  architecture  owes  its 
power  largely  to  the  fact  that  the  mind  loses  itself  in  its 
mazes. 

Harmony  is  of  the  essence  of  beauty;  but  so  also  is  con- 
trast. The  restful  and  subdued,  the  neutral  tint,  the  soft 
and  soothing  sound,  the  un  jar  ring  harmony  we  delight  in, 
but  also  we  want  vivid  experience,  the  thrilling  and  exciting, 
even  though  it  be  horrible — trumpet  and  fortissimo,  and  the 
touch  of  scarlet. 

Finally  we  delight  in  the  perfect,  but  there  is  also  a  place 
in  art  for  the  grotesque.  Familiarity  and  novelty,  fitness  for 
use  and  remoteness  from  use  and  wont,  symmetry  and  quaint- 
ness,  simplicity  and  intricacy,  harmony  and  contrast,  the  re- 
poseful and  the  thrilling,  the  perfect  and  the  grotesque,  all 
play  their  part  in  furnishing  the  objective  occasion  for  experi- 
encing beauty. 

Availing  itself  of  all  these  possibilities  of  beauty,  con- 
ventionality creates  a  social  influence  which  evokes  the  experi- 
ence of  beauty.  But  because  conventionality  varies,  societies 
vary  widely  as  to  the  objects  which  evoke  this  experience  in 
their  members.  Even  our  own  most  classic  works  of  art 
owe  their  power  largely  to  conventionality.  How  many  of 
the  tourists  who  stand  uncovered  and  speak  only  in  whispers 
in  the  little  room  where  the  Sistine  Madonna  hangs  would  be 
so  stirred  if  they  had  never  heard  of  Raphael's  masterpiece, 
and  saw  it,  robbed  of  the  evidences  of  the  approval  of  others, 
in  a  store  window?  Their  experience  is  real,  as  real  as  the 
countless  cures  that  have  been  wrought  by  therapeutic  sugges- 
tion. We  abandon  ourselves  -to  the  experience  of  beauty 
when  we  are  assured  of  the  approval  of  the  competent,  and 
that  experience  is  heightened  by  the  sense  of  sympathy  with 
generations  of  our  kind.  Some  beauty  experience  is  mere 
social  hypnotism;  some  is  original  response  to  one  or  other 
of  the  causes  enumerated  above,  but  most  is  a  combination 
of  the  two ;  it  is  due  in  part  to  objective  causes  and  the  nature 
of  the  soul  of  man,  but  it  is  heightened  when  we  feel  the 
group  heart  beating  against  our  own.  And  so  great  is  the 


506  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

influence  of  conventionality  that  many  things  which  seem 
beautiful  to  one  people  to  another  appear  indifferent,  or 
grotesque  and  absurd,  or  even  hideous. 

A  complete  account  of  esthetic  origins  would  require 
chapters  on  music,  the  dance  and  pantomime,  art  in  ceremony, 
drawing,  painting,  and  carving. 

Clothing. — The  previous  statement  that  the  wearing  of 
clothes  did  not  originate  chiefly  in  modesty  or  in  desire  for 
warmth  implies  no  denial  that  these  two  motives  were  soon 
developed.  Custom  is  as  insistent  in  respect  to  clothing  as  in 
other  matters,  and  as  we  have  seen  men  and  women  may  be 
ashamed  of  appearing  without  their  paint,  much  as  a  man 
of  fashion  would  be  ashamed  to  appear  at  a  ball  without 
evening  clothes.  And  sex  self-consciousness  soon  mingles  with 
dress  customs.  Man  almost  certainly  originated  in  a  warm 
climate  where  clothing  was  not  required  for  warmth;  but  to 
drape  himself  with  skins,  grasses,  and  strips  of  bark,  as  well 
as  belts  of  beads,  was  an  early  means  of  distinction  and  adorn- 
ment. The  wearing  of  trophies  was  one  of  the  most  glorious 
modes  of  adornment.  And  the  skins  of  formidable  beasts  are 
trophies.  Skins  are  worn  by  people  whom  we  usually  think 
of  as  "naked  savages,"  for  occasional  protection  not  so  much 
against  cold  as  against  wet.  Whether  man  first  got  the  idea 
of  wearing  furs  as  a  protection  from  the  fact  that  the  animals 
had  worn  them  or  from  the  comfort  incidentally  furnished 
by  them  when  put  on  as  trophies  and  adornments  we  are 
not  sure. 

In  the  relatively  stable  climate  of  the  tropics  man  does 
not  appear  to  develop  a  want  for  the  constant  use  of  clothes 
as  a  protection  from  the  weather.  And  even  in  the  bleakness 
of  Tierra  del  Fuego  the  miserable  savages  meet  the  cold  with 
a  biological  rather  than  a  sociological  adjustment.  They  be- 
come "all  face,"  and  allow  the  falling  snow  to  melt  upon  their 
naked  bodies,  only  a  fraction  of  their  persons  being  scantily 
protected  by  a  piece  of  pelt.  Yet  wherever  cold  seasons  alter- 
nate with  warm,  clothes  worn  for  display  and  later  for  decency 
would  clearly  reveal  their  advantages  as  protection.  Summer 
migrations  toward  the  north  followed  by  tarrying  to  face 


EXAMPLES  OF  SOCIAL  EVOLUTION  507 

winters  of  unfamiliar  severity,  would  cause  a  need  to  which 
men  were  not  so  accustomed  as  to  be  oblivious  to  it.  And 
the  gradual  encroachments  of  glacial  cold  made  early  peoples 
live,  even  in  central  France,  as  companions  of  the  reindeer. 

A  stick,  thorn,  or  bit  of  bone  used  as  a  pin  would  hold 
the  pelt  in  place,  or  it  could  be  tied  with  a  thong  run  through 
holes.  Rows  of  holes  gave  lacing,  which  is  a  rudimentary 
seam,  while  a  bit  of  bone  fastened  to  the  thong  to  make  lac- 
ing easier,  on  the  principle  of  the  shoe-string,  made  a  rudimen- 
tary needle  and  thread.  The  needle  was  used  in  the  Ice  Age. 

Clothing  and  the  ornaments  that  developed  into  clothing 
were  chiefly  hung  about  the  neck  and  about  the  waist.  The 
girdle  becomes  apron,  loin-cloth,  skirt  or  kilt,  and  in  the  north 
the  skirt  divided  and  its  'parts  closed  changes  into  trousers, 
while  the  girdle  widened  and  supported  by  bands  across  the 
shoulders  becomes  the  waistcoast.  About  the  neck  are  worn 
the  mantle,  "poncho,"  tunic,  shirt,  and  finally  the  coat.  Lip- 
pert  points  out  that  clothing  worn  wholly  or  almost  wholly 
for  ornament,  distinction,  and  "effect,"  remains  flowing,  but 
that  in  the  north  where  clothing  is  largely  worn  for  protection 
against  cold,  it  becomes  snug  and  is  fitted  to  the  limbs;  thus 
he  says  tailoring  (Schneiderei)  is  a  product  of  the  north.  In 
the  north,  however,  drapery  long  continues  to  be  worn  for 
effect  by  men  on  ceremonial  occasions,  by  women,  and  even 
by  caparisoned  horses.  The  last  is  a  good  illustration  of  the 
relation  between  clothing  and  ornament.  The  simplest  and 
probably  the  most  primitive  fitting  is  cutting  through  a  pelt  a 
hole  through  which  to  put  the  head,  poncho-fashion.  The  skin 
then  hangs  down  before  and  behind,  and  may  be  closed  by  a 
belt  or  by  a  lacing  or  seam. 

Woven  stuffs  in  time  largely  replaced  pelts.  The  New 
Zealanders,  having  migrated  from  a  land  of  fur-bearing  ani- 
mals to  an  island  where  such  animals  were  not  found,  had 
already  developed  the  want  for  garments,  and  were  forced 
to  meet  it  by  plaiting  the  split  leaves  of  an  iris-like  or  yucca- 
like  plant.  Weaving  as  already  suggested  gr"ew  by  degrees  of 
refinement  out  of  plaiting.  This  too  is  well  illustrated  by  such 
fine-plaited  garments  as  are  found  in  New  Zealand. 


CHAPTER   XXVIII 
EXAMPLES   OF  SOCIAL   EVOLUTION    (Continued) 

Language. — Language  is  a  typical  product  of  social  evolu- 
tion. It  is  not  produced  by  biological  evolution,  though  for 
this  as  for  all  other  social  evolution  biological  evolution  fur- 
nished the  prerequisite  organic  conditions.  Even  to-day  lan- 
guage is  in  no  sense  an  inborn  gift.  The  deaf  remain  dumb, 
and  no  one  has  knowledge  of  any  language  that  he  has  not 
learned  from  others.  In  this,  language  is  like  religion,  moral- 
ity, science,  politics,  art,  special  tastes,  and  the  whole  content 
of  life  which  has  been  socially  evolved. 

There  are  four  steps  in  the  development  of  intercom- 
munication : 

1.  Organic  Reactions  Are  Intelligible  to  Others. — The 
chicken  cheeping  in  the  shell  already  can  understand  its 
mother's  warning  or  reassuring  note;  not  in  the  sense  that 
the  chicken  gets  an  idea  from  the  mother's  note  but  that  it 
receives  a  radiated  feeling  by  that  medium  and  stops  or  re- 
sumes its  pecking  and  cheeping  accordingly.  The  bleating  of 
the  lost  calf  and  the  snarl  of  rage  carry  a  meaning  for  other 
animals  and  for  man.  So  also  do  attitudes  and  actions.  Flight 
proclaims  terror,  spreads  panic,  and  invites  pursuit.  Slink- 
ing, fawning,  love-making,  and  threatening  convey  their  mean- 
ings within  the  group  or  between  enemies.  None  of  us  knows 
just  how  extensively  or  how  subtly  beasts  and  birds  thus 
communicate ;  doubtless  more  than  we  see  though  less  than  we 
can  imagine.  That  their  sociable  hearts  thus  get  some  degree 
of  comfort  and  guidance  there  is  no  doubt.  These  means  of 
communication  never  cease  to  play  a  part  in  the  intercourse 
of  human  beings;  they  are  not  readily  made  deceitful;  they 
have  much  to  do  with  liking  and  dislike  and  with  degrees  of 
influence  and  mastery  among  men.  But  mere  organic  reactions 


EXAMPLES  OF  SOCIAL  EVOLUTION  509 

are  products  of  biological  evolution  and  are  of  significance 
for  us  in  this  connection  only  as  they  prepare  for  or  mingle 
with  higher  elements  of  communication.  However,  they  cease 
to  be  mere  organic  reactions  as  soon  as  they  are  done  on 
purpose.  If  a  dog  barks  not  merely  as  a  physiological  result 
of  a  state  of  excitation  but  in  order  to  let  its  master  know 
the  presence  of  an  intruder  we  have  at  least  a  step  toward 
speech.  Some  animals  and  the  lowest  men  do  discover  that 
their  spontaneous  cries  and  movements  are  understood  and 
thereafter  they  cease  at  times  to  be  mere  spontaneous  reac- 
tions. And  when  some  individuals  begin  the  intentional  use 
of  these  as  media  of  communication  and  other  individuals  are 
stimulated  by  their  example  to  similar  intentional  use  of 
natural  cries  and  gestures  we  have  a  true  social  phenomenon. 

2.  Mimicry. — What  one  can  mimic  he  may  thereby  make 
known  to  another.  The  ideomotor  tendency  to  imitate  is 
strong  in  children,  apes,  monkeys,  and  in  many  birds.  The 
imitator,  like  the  parrot,  may  have  no  understanding  of  that 
which  he  imitates  *  and  even  when  there  is  understanding, 
it  is  not  communication  in  our  meaning  of  the  term,  so  long 
as  the  imitation  is  purely  ideomotor,  but  only  when  it  is  in- 
tended for  the  purpose  of  being  understood.  "Bow-wow" 
and  "choo-choo"  are  not  language  so  long  as  they  are  mere 
ideomotor  responses  to  external  stimulation,  but  only  when 
they  are  prompted  by  an  inner  desire  to  attract  comprehending 
attention  from  an  associate. 

The  mental  activity  of  man  is  largely  of  the  visualizing 
type.  Auditory  mentality  must  have  been  developed  mainly 
through  the  selective  agency  of  an  environment  which  included 
talking  associates;  if  so,  primitive  man  was  even  more  pre- 
dominantly a  visualizer  than  we  are.  Auditory  mental  skill 
is  also  heightened  in  the  modern  individual  by  the  process  of 
education  through  the  medium  of  language.  Mimicry,  while 
partly  vocal,  is  largely  of  bodily  movements.  The  language 
of  primitive  man  may  well  have  been  largely  mimetic  and  in 
so  far  as  it  was  mimetic  comprised  less  of  words  than  of 

1  This  does  not  mean  that  the  parrot  never  in  any  degree  underv 
Rtands  any  of  the  words  he  utters. 


5io  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

other  signs.  As  a  matter  of  fact  existing  savages  make  very 
considerable  use  of  signs  as  a  means  of  communication.  It  is 
said  that  an  ordinary  Indian  and  a  deaf  mute  could  under- 
stand each  other  and  that  there  is  a  world  sign  language  dif- 
fering among  savages  of  the  different  continents  only  as  dia- 
lects of  one  speech  vary.  But  developed  oral  speech  has 
such  great  advantages  that  gesture  ultimately  sinks  into  rela- 
tive unimportance.  Vocal  mimicry  undoubtedly  played  a 
part  in  forming  the  beginnings  of  vocabulary  and  in  familiariz- 
ing men  with  the  notion  of  speech  so  that  they  became  able 
to  develop  its  less  obvious  resources. 

3.  Association  of  Sounds  with  Experiences. — The  simplest 
form  of  memory  which  recalls  situations,  that  is  to  say,  ex- 
periences en  bloc,  includes  memory  of  sounds  that  were  part 
of  the  experience.  And  the  sound  may  serve  to  recall  the 
experience,  and  so  may  be  used  to  call  to  the  mind  of  another, 
who  shared  the  experience,  not  only  the  experience  as  a  whole, 
but  also  any  prominent  element  in  the  experience  or  any  other 
act  or  thing  of  the  same  class.  Thus  Mr.  Darwin's  grand- 
child having  been  excited  by  a  visit  to  a  duck  pond  thereafter 
called  all  birds  "quack,"  money  on  which  there  was  an  eagle 
"quack,"  and  water  "quack."  To  call  ducks  "quack"  was 
mimetic,  but  to  call  other  birds,  and  still  more  to  call  water 
or  money  quack,  was  association  of  sounds  with  ideas.  It 
must  be  added  that  children,  having  the  anatomical  apparatus 
for  articulation,1  "da-da"  and  "a-goo"  spontaneously  as  they 
wave  their  hands.  Many,  if  not  most,  children  make  begin- 
nings toward  constructing  a  language.  Their  beginnings  are 
usually  soon  brought  to  an  end  because  a  developed  language 
is  supplied  them ;  but  according  to  Romanes,  "the  spontaneous 

1  Romanes  (Mental  Evolution  in  Man,  chap,  vii)  believes  that 
some  of  the  more  intelligent  animals  would  use  articulate  sounds  as 
signs  if  they  had  as  good  organs  for  articulation  as  birds  have,  at 
least  that  they  would  certainly  learn  from  man,  when  domesticated,  to 
use  simple  words  intelligently.  Indeed  even  parrots  do,  in  many  in- 
stances, use  words  by  associative  intelligence  as  means  to  ends,  for 
instance,  "Polly  is  thirsty"  as  a  means  of  getting  water,  etc.  See  pp. 
127  seq. 


EXAMPLES  OF  SOCIAL  EVOLUTION  511 

and,  to  all  appearances,  arbitrary  word-making,  which  is  more 
or  less  observable  in  all  children  when  first  beginning  to  speak, 
may  under  favorable  circumstances,  proceed  to  an  astonishing 
degree  of  fullness  and  accuracy,"  the  words  may  become  "suf- 
ficiently numerous  and  varied  to  constitute  a  not  inefficient 
language"  and  "the  syntax  of  the  language  presents  obvious 
points  of  resemblance"  to  that  of  the  most  primitive  languages 
in  vogue  among  adult  populations.  Such  extensive  and  "arbi- 
trary" word-making  suggests  the  fourth  step  in  language- 
making,  a  step  which  implies  a  higher  mental  evolution  than 
is  necessary  for  the  first  three. 

The  three  steps  in  the  development  of  rudimentary  lan- 
guages thus  far  mentioned  were  possible  to  men  who  had 
not  advanced  in  psychic  capacity  beyond  the  stage  which  our 
children  reach  at  two  years  of  age,  to  men,  that  is,  whose 
intelligence  did  not  differ  greatly  from  that  of  the  highest 
animals,  and  whose  marked  advantage  consisted  in  the  pos- 
session of  better  organs  of  articulation.1  This  rudimentary 
speech  sufficed  to  give  to  such  intelligence  as  they  possessed, 
increased  efficiency  and  gave  to  increments  in  intelligence  great 

1  Compare  the  curious  paper  of  Professor  Garner  on  "Rudimen- 
tary Language  in  Apes,"  in  the  New  Review  (see  Spectator,  June  6, 
1891).  By  means  of  the  phonograph  Professor  Garner  caught  distinct 
sounds,  uttered  to  express  such  meanings  as  desire  for  food,  drink 
and  even  possibly  for  special  kinds  of  food,  which,  when  uttered  by 
one  ape,  are  readily  understood  by  others  of  the  same  species.  Pro- 
fessor Garner  himself  learned  to  speak  these  words  so  as  to  be  readily 
and  intelligently  understood  by  the  apes.  Compare  R.  P.  Gregg: 
Comparative  Philology.  London,  1893,  p.  viii.  Compare  also  the 
statement  of  Ratzel  that  no  race  of  human  beings  is  too  dull  for 
language-making.  (History  of  Mankind,  i,  31.)  "Hunting  savages 
like  the  Bushmen  speak  a  finely  constructed  and  copious  language, 
while  we  find  among  the  race  which  has  developed  the  highest  and 
most  permanent  civilization  of  Asia  what  according  to  evolutionary 
views  must  be  regarded  as  a  most  simple  language,  the  uninflected 
Chinese  with  its  four  hundred  and  fifty  root  words,  which  may  be 
put  together  like  pieces  in  a  puzzle  and  taken  apart  again,  remaining 
all  the  time  unaltered."  The  Bushman  language  may  be  much  older 
than  Chinese;  compare  the  section  "Fixation  of  Social  Species,"  and 
Churchward's  "Evolution  of  Primitive  Man"  on  the  antiquity  of  the 
Bushmen,  pages  13  and  36. 


512  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

survival  value.  To  beings  possessing  good  organs  of  articula- 
tion in  addition  to  the  intelligence  and  dexterity  already  devel- 
oped by  the  apes,  brain  power  was  the  predominant  condition  of 
survival  and  so  with  them  the  course  of  evolution  took  the 
direction  of  brain  development. 

Better  brain  power  got  its  greatest  usefulness  as  a  means 
of  survival  by  enabling  men  to  communicate  and  so  to  co- 
operate with  greater  efficiency.  Cooperating  men  could  face 
the  mammoth  and  the  cave  bear,  could  overcome  hunger  and 
cold,  and  also  less  cooperating  human  hordes,  and  could 
accumulate  by  tradition  the  growing  store  of  working  ideas 
which  at  length  enabled  them  to  live  together  by  millions. 
And  thus  it  was  that  by  being  social,  from  being"  something 
less  than  man,  our  remote  ancestor  became  man.  Man,  even 
biologically,  is  a  product  of  association.  Association  furnished 
the  condition  for  the  highest  stages  of  organic  or  biological 
evolution  and  gave  to  man  not  only  the  social  or  so-called 
"moral"  instincts  but  also  his  superior  intelligence.  Asso- 
ciation then  furnished  the  condition  for  superorganic  or  social 
evolution  which  developed  the  vast  and  rich  content  of  modern 
life.  Finally,  association  furnishes  the  condition  of  the  educa- 
tion by  which  each  biologically  developed  individual  born 
into  the  world  gets  his  share  in  the  products  of  social  evolution. 

4.  The  Generalized  Notion  of  Using  Sounds  as  Symbols. — 
Many  instances  of  symbolizing  a  mental  content  by  a  vocable 
having  arisen  spontaneously  in  the  three  ways  already 
mentioned,  as  they  still  arise  among  little  children,  these  spe- 
cific instances  in  time  led  to  perception  of  the  general 'notion 
that  ideas  can  be  thus  symbolized.  And  this  idea  once  reached 
language  grew  apace  in  the  constant  comradeship  of  horde  life. 
Indeed  with  this  notion  once  established  in  the  mind  there 
is  no  limit  to  easy  word-making  save  the  limit  of  demand 
and  convenience. 

Philologists  tell  us  that  about  five  hundred  roots  with  modi- 
fications and  combinations  suffice  for  building  such  a  language 
as  the  English.  Professor  Miiller  presented  a  list  of  one  hun- 
dred and  twenty-one  root  concepts  with  which,  as  he  main- 
tained, every  thought  that  ever  passed  through  the  mind  of 


EXAMPLES  OF  SOCIAL  EVOLUTION  513 

India,  so  far  as  it  is  known  to  us  in  its  literature,  has  been  ex- 
pressed.1 To  which  Romanes  adds  that  few  of  these  original 
concepts  rise  much  higher  in  the  scale  of  ideation  than  the  level 
attainable  by  a  dumb  animal  or  an  infant.  But  the  original  con- 
cepts of  language  are  greatly  extended  by  figurative  use;  and 
words  that  in  their  literal  meaning  conveyed  simply  sensational 
ideas  later  carry  psychic  meanings.  Thus  we  understand  that 
propositions  support  the  obligation  to  discharge  responsibilities 
— to  stand  under  and  to  tie  down  are  ideas  of  the  child  or  the 
primitive  savage,  but  the  roots  that  first  conveyed  such  primi- 
tive ideas  later  embody  the  concepts  of  metaphysics.  Com- 
pounding of  roots  and  figurative  extension  of  meaning  mul- 
tiply and  enrich  the  vocabulary. 

Grammar. — Primitive  words  stood  for  complete  ideas  while 
the  words  of  developed  languages  are  so  specialized  that  each 
conveys  only  a  fragment  of  an  idea.  Adverb,  adjective, 
preposition,  noun,  and  verb  are  differentiated  organs  of  speech, 
while  a  primitive  word  is  a  protozoan  of  speech,  without 
organs  yet  discharging  all  functions.  Thus  the  child's  "up" 
is  noun-verb-adjective  all  in  one,  and  means  "I  want  to  get 
up,"  "He  has  gone  up,"  etc.,  or  "By-by"  (sleep)  means  cot, 
bed,  pillow,  blankets,  asleep,  sleepy,  I  want  to  go  to  bed,  etc. 
Such  words  have  to  be  helped  out  by  pointing  and  gesture. 
There  was  probably  an  immensely  long  period  during  which 
men  communicated  by  such  comprehensive  vocal  signs  while 
gesture  and  pantomime  partly  compensated  for  the  poverty  of 
grammatical  differentiation  and  structure.  It  is  said  that  the 
language  of  certain  Africans  depends  so  much  on  signs  that 
they  cannot  understand  each  other  well  in  the  dark. 

The  first  differentiated  vocables  for  expressing  relation 
seem  to  have  been  pronouns  and  adverbs  of  place  that  re- 
placed pointing.  These  could  enter  into  permanent  composi- 
tion with  other  words  to -enlarge  their  meaning,  as  in  t  the 
Sanskrit  "digging-he"  =  laborer ;  "digging-it"  =  spade ;  "dig- 
ging-here"  =  labor ;  "digging-there"  =  hole,  etc.  The  attach- 
ment of  pronominal  forms  to  verbal  roots,  as  illustrated,  takes 

1  Science  of  Thought,  p.  549,  quoted  by  G.  J.  Romanes.  Mental 
Evolution  in  Man.  Appleton  and  Co.,  1884,  p.  274, 


514  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

the  place  of  inflection,  and  ultimately  becomes  inflection 
proper. 

When  the  vocabulary  becomes  rich  enough  to  furnish  more 
than  one  word  that  may  be  connected  with  the  same  thought, 
these  words  are  simply  uttered  in  succession;  the  same  word 
being  in  one  connection  noun  or  verb,  in  another  adjective  or 
adverb.  Thus  "gold"  is  a  noun  but  becomes  an  adjective,  as 
"gold  cup,"  and  in  the  mouth  of  a  child  or  a  savage  the  ex- 
pression "cup  gold"  means,  "This  cup  is  of  gold,"  and  such 
radical  contraries  as  "Tom  hit  me"  and  "Me  hit  Tom"  are 
expressed  by  a  mere  change  in  the  order  of  words,  while  hit, 
the  verb,  is  also  the  noun,  blow;  and  eat,  the  verb,  is  also 
the  noun,  food. 

The  Sanskrit  speech  of  the  pastoral  Aryans  was  far  from 
being  a  primitive  language.  Grammar  may  long  remain  very 
simple,  as  is  shown  not  only  by  many  languages  of  savage 
and  barbarous  peoples  but  by  the  language  of  a  people  so 
.highly  civilized  as  the  Chinese.  "The  Chinese  Empire,  Bur- 
mah,  and  Indo-China  are  ignorant  of  that  which  we  call  gram- 
mar. From  the  beginning  of  the  world  (sic!)  these  people 
have  made  use  of  isolated  syllables  to  which  a  strict  syntax 
(arrangement  of  words)  assigns  in  turn  the  value  of  verb, 
substantive,  adjective,  adverb  or  preposition." 

Language  is  said  originally  to  have  consisted  mainly  of 
only  two  elements ;  first,  the  names  of  objects  and  actions ; 
second,  demonstrative  or  pronominal  sounds.  "These  two 
classes  of  roots  are  the  only  elements  of  language;  there  are 
no  others  *  and  all  tongues  are  the  result  of  their  different 
combinations,  either  (i)  by  simple  juxtaposition  of  unaltered 
syllables,  as  in  Chinese;  (2)  by  agglutination  of  several  syl- 
lables round  a  central  syllable  as  in  the  case  of  all  the  lan- 
guages called  agglutinative  which  the  polysyllabic  speech  of 
the  American  Indian  illustrates;  or-  (3)  fusing  and  contracting 
into  a  single  whole  the  central  and  subordinate  syllables,  as 
in  all  the  inflected  languages."  z  In  inflected  languages  instead 

1  Possibly  this  statement  is  somewhat  exaggerated,  and  the  verbal 
protozoan  had  adumbrations  of  other  meanings  also. 

'Compare  Le  Fevre:    Race  and  Language.    London,  1894,  p.  49. 


EXAMPLES  OF  SOCIAL  EVOLUTION  515 

of  heaping  together  verbs  and  substantives  as  in  agglutinative 
speech,  a  single  \erbal  or  substantive  root  is  modified  and 
supplemented  by  originally  pronominal  elements.  Inflected 
languages  have  shown  a  tendency  to  pass  into  (4)  analytic 
languages,  largely  escaping  the  complexity  of  inflection  by 
use  of  a  few  prepositions  and  auxiliaries,  which  "supply  with 
greater  subtlety  and  precision  the  vanished  forms  of  declen- 
sion and  conjugation." 

Agglutination  can  be  carried  to  a  bewildering  and  de- 
forming complexity,  as  shown  by  the  Basque  and  American 
Indian  languages.  The  inflectional  method  may  get  well  under 
way  before  the  agglutinative  is  outgrown.  "In  Algonkin  lan- 
guages the  verb  is  very  rich  in  its  inflections;  more  so  even 
than  Greek.1 

Spoken  languages  are  well  described  as  "living."  They 
are  always  developing.  And  when  we  remember  the  constant 
need  of  speech,  the  facility  with  which  even  little  children  coin 
words  and  originate  sentence  structure,  and  the  fact  that 
numberless  groups  have  been  talking  for  ages  in  relative  iso- 
lation from  each  other,  it  is  of  great  interest  to  notice  that 
families  of  nations  express  themselves  by  the  use  of  com- 
paratively few  word  roots  and  that  the  grammatical  structure 
of  language  conforms  to  so  few  types.  Even  here  nature  is 
not  capricious  but  produces  the  results  which  are  prescribed 
by  the  conditions.  Moreover,  the  strong  tendency  for  existing 
inventions  to  inhibit  further  inventions  that  might  differently 
serve  the  same  end,  is  strikingly  illustrated  by  the  development 
and  combination  of  existing  roots,  instead  of  simple  coining 
of  new  words. 

The  greatest  simplicity  consistent  with  accuracy  and  full- 

The  title  of  this  book  suggests  the  remark  that  it  is  extremely  easy  to 
carry  too  far  the  assumption  that  lingual  group  and  biological  race 
coincide.  Some  peoples  have  adopted  .the  language  of  another  race, 
while  other  peoples  have  been  composed  by  mingling  stocks  that  had 
previously  spoken  diverse  tongues,  one  of  which  ultimately  pre- 
dominates. 

1 R.  P.  Gregg :  Comparative  Philology.  London,  1893,  p.  x.  The 
Algonquin,  however,  is  still  largely  agglutinative  and  has  no  auxiliary 
verbs. 


5i6  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

ness  of  expression  is  a  test  of  excellence  in  language.  Need- 
less multiplication  of  technical  terms  and  of  rare  and  recondite 
words  confuses  and  obscures  speech;  and  excessive  elabora- 
tion of  inflection  may  encumber  the  mind  of  both  speaker 
and  listener.  For  example,  the  indication  of  gender  in  both 
the  subject  and  the  verb  is  flying  too  many  flags  for  the 
same  signal.  Analytic  languages  lay  aside  most  of  the  com- 
plexities of  inflection.  The  ideal  in  language  would  seem 
to  be  the  greatest  possible  reconciliation  of  simplicity  with 
precision,  and  sufficient  variety  for  the  purposes  of  art.1 

Inflection  is  a  way  of  escape  from  the  clumsiness  and 
complexity  of  the  agglutinative  method,  as  auxiliaries  and 
prepositions  are  an  emancipation  from  the  intricacies  of  in- 
flection. Only  Semitic  and  Indo-Germanic  languages  have 
passed  the  agglutinative  stage.  The  Germanic  and  Romanic 
languages  have  progressed  to  the  analytic  stage,  French  and 
English  being  the  best  examples.  French  and  English,  how- 
ever, are  of  all  the  European  languages  the  most  imperfectly 
represented  by  their  present  spelling.  English  is  enriched  with 
both  Romanic  and  Germanic  vocabularies  and  is  the  most 
analytic  of  all  languages. 

1  There  is  little  present  likelihood  that  any  artificial  or  "scientific" 
language  will  make  great  progress  in  popular  use.  It  would  be  a  tre- 
mendous advantage  to  science  and  literature  and  social  progress  in 
general  if  the  advanced  populations  used  a  common  vehicle  of  com- 
munication. French  and  English  at  present  are  the  leading  competi- 
tors for  this  service,  with  English  gaining  in  the  race.  The  fact  that 
so  many  millions  .already  speak  English,  and  that  it  is  already  the 
medium  of  so  great  a  literature  gives  it  inestimable  advantages  over 
any  "scientific"  languages.  It  is  the  native  tongue  of  more  millions 
by  far  than  any  other  European  language,  and  even  some  of  those  who 
speak  rival  tongues  admit  that  it  also  possesses  the  greatest  literature. 
And  it  would  be  the  easiest  of  all  great  natural  languages  to  learn 
if  it  had  phonetic  spelling.  The  movement  toward  reforming  the 
spelling  of  our  language  is  not  radical  enough  to  do  much  good.  It 
accomplishes  so  little  that  not  many  people  care  to  bother  with  it.  A 
consistent  system  of  phonetic  spelling  should  be  worked  out  and  then 
it  should  be  adopted  by  publishers.  It  should  follow  as  closely  as 
possible  the  established  continental  use  of  the  letters,  and  so  be  far 
less  artificial  than  the  system  of  phonetic  spelling  that  has  been  pro- 
posed by  Bell. 


EXAMPLES  OF  SOCIAL  EVOLUTION  517 

Writing,  Measuring,  and  Counting. — (i)  Primitive  records 
are  only  reminders.  They  serve  to  recall  ideas  already  known, 
but  not  to  communicate  ideas  to  those  by  whom  the  ideas 
had  not  already  been  known.  Indians  "talked  into  the  wam- 
pum" by  weaving  in  distinct  marks  commemorative  of  events. 
The  Iroquois  have  intrusted  to  the  officials  of  the  state  of 
New  York  at  Albany  such  records  of  their  tribal  history. 
Hostile  tribes  have  kept  account  of  their  losses  and  their  re- 
venge by  preserving  bundles  of  sticks  to  which  one  is  added 
for  each  death  of  a  tribesman  at  the  hands  of  a  given  enemy. 
The  amount  of  a  future  payment  is  indicated  by  a  similar 
bundle.  A  South  American  Indian  leaving  his  aged  parents 
gave  them  a  string  in  which  he  had  tied  a  number  of  knots 
and  took  with  him  a  string  having  the  same  number  of  knots. 
Parents  and  son  agreed  to  untie  one  knot  each  day;  when  the 
parents  reached  the  last  knot  they  expected  their  son,  and 
when  he  reached  the  last  knot  he  knew  that  the  time  for  his 
promised  return  had  come. 

(2)  Picture  writing  is  a  kind  of  permanent  and  trans- 
missible sign  language.  It  is  not  writing  proper  for  it  rep- 
resents ideas  and  not  sounds.  (3)  In  "ideographic"  writing 
(like  the  Chinese)  each  picture  or  symbol  represents  a  com-, 
plete  word.  (4)  In  "phonetic"  writing  each  symbol  stands 
for  only  part  of  a  word,  either  for  a  syllable  ("syllabic"  writ- 
ing as  that  of  the  Japanese  and  various  ancient  peoples),  or 
(5)  for  a  still  smaller  vocal,  element  ("alphabetic"  writing 
which  modern  European  nations  have  derived  from  the  Greeks, 
and  the  Greeks  derived  from  the  Semitic  Phoenicians).  Pic- 
ture writing  becomes  ideographic  when  usage  settles  upon 
given  pictures  as  the  signs  of  given  words  rather  than  of  the 
objects  which  those  words  mean,  so  that  a  combination  of 
these  word  symbols  would  no  longer  be  interpreted  as  com- 
bining to  form  a  picture,  but  as  standing  for  a  succession  of 
words.  Thus  in  picture  writing  a  wavy  line  may  stand  for 
water,  and  a  boat  may  be  put  upon  it  or  fishes  under  it,  but 
in  ideographic  writing  the  wavy  line  stands  for  the  word 
"water"  and  is  read  in  connection  twith  the  signs  that  precede 
and  follow  it  to  form  a  sentence.  Such  ideographic  writing 


5i8  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

becomes  syllabic  or  alphabetic  when  the  sign  that  had  stood 
for  a  word  comes  to  stand  only  for  the  first  syllable  or  the 
first  letter  of  that  word.  The  advantage  of  this  is  that  there 
are  many  more  words  than  syllables,  and  vastly  more  words 
than  elementary  sounds.  An  ideographic  language  requires 
as  many  symbols  as  it  has  words  (save  as  it  lets  the  same 
symbol  stand  for  either  of  several  words)  while  a  syllabic 
language  can  represent  the  same  number  of  words  by  a  much 
smaller  number  of  signs,  and  an  alphabetic  language  represents 
thousands  of  words  by  twenty-six  letters.  The  forms  of 
characters  become  greatly  simplified  as  picture  writing  passes 
into  ideographic,  and  finally  into  syllabic  or  alphabetic  writing. 
Thus  the  wavy  line  that  stood  for  water,  and  later  for  the 
initial  letter  of  the  word  for  water,  becomes  the  letter  n. 
Swiftness  in  writing  reduced  the  sign  to  its  simplest  form, 
and  usage  and  conventionality  make  the  sign  perfectly  intelli- 
gible after  it  has  been  reduced  to  the  merest  vestige  of  the 
original  picture ;  there  is  no  longer  any  need  that  it  should 
resemble  the  object  for  which  it  once  stood,  since  now  it  stands 
only  for  a  sound. 

The  primitive  units  of  measurement  are  largely  those  found 
ready  at  hand.  An  inch  was  originally  a  thumb's  width.  The 
"hand"  still  survives  among  us  as  a  measure  of  the  height  of 
horses.  The  span  is  practically  obsolete  among  us  save  among 
boys.  The  foot,  however,  is  our  most  usual  standard.  The 
ell  was  originally  the  same  as  the  cubit  and  equal  to  the  length 
of  forearm  and  hand.  The  fathom  is  ecfual  to  the  reach  of 
the  extended  arms.  The  original  meaning  of  the  word  yard 
is  walking-stick  or  goad,  and  the  similar  origin  of  the  rod  is 
suggested  by  its  name. 

The  general  practice  of  counting  on  the  fingers  almost 
certainly  gave  us  the  decimal  system.  The  universal  method 
of  counting  large  numbers  is  to  repeat  groups  of  ten  or  of 
some  other  denomination.  That  many  peoples  count  by  threes 
and  not  by  tens  is  not  a  reason  for  saying  that  they  have  no 
conception  of  numbers  above  three,  any  more  (as  Bleek  and 
Ratzel  remark)  than  the  fact  that  the  French  say  "dix-sept" 
and  "quatre  vingts"  is  evidence  that  thev  cannot  count  beyond 


.  EXAMPLES  OF  SOCIAL  EVOLUTION  519 

ten  or  twenty.  However,  it  is  true  that  skill  in  reckoning  is 
not  developed  till  people  have  interests  that  require  it. 

The  simplest  subdivisions  are  halves  and  quarters  and 
eighths,  and  to  this  fact  it  is  doubtless  due  that  our  week  is  of 
seven  days,  being  one-fourth  part  of  the  lunar  month.  The 
practice  of  observing  one  rest  day  in  each  seven  rose  before 
the  Hebrews  became  a  distinct  nation.  It  originated  in 
Mesopotamia.  As  soon  as  gangs  of  men  were  kept  regularly 
at  severe  toil  it  became  manifest  that  to  conserve  their  power 
and  to  secure  the  greatest  amount  of  work  the  slaves  must 
be  given  periodic  rest. 

Property  and  Commerce. — Counting,  measuring,  and  writ- 
ing are  developed  largely  in  connection  with  property  and 
trade. 

Primitive  property  is  largely  personal  property  in  the 
strictest  sense.  A  savage  is  recognized  by  his  weapons  and 
ornaments  and  not  only  by  his  stature  or  other  bodily  traits. 
He  thinks  of  himself  as  the  man  who  has  and  wears  these 
things  and  would  regard  any  disparagement  or  misuse  of 
these  belongings  as  an  attack  upon  himself.  So  that  it  is  often 
said  that  the  savage  at  first  does  not  distinguish  clearly  be- 
tween himself  and  his  belongings.  Indeed  we  all  include  in 
our  thoughts  of  ourselves  a  varied  combination  of  ideas — 
Tom  to  Tom  is  the  man  who  is,  does,  and  has,  a  variety  of 
things.  It  has  been  suggested  that  the  idea  of  property  first 
became  clear  in  connection  with  the  ownership  of  slaves,  for 
slaves  were  property  that  was  necessarily  separate  in  thought 
from  the  personality  of  the  owner. 

At  first  man  respects  the  belongings  of  another  only  as 
he  respects  the  person  of  another,  that  is,  out  of  personal 
regard  for  the  owner  or  fear  of  his  vengeance.  The  institu- 
tion of  private  property  does  not  appear  until  the  idea  is 
formed  in  the  mind  of  the  group  and  enforced  by  public 
opinion,  that  a  person  can  have  a  claim  to  goods  which  others 
are  bound  to  respect,  not  only  when  those  goods  are  entirely 
detached  from  the  owner's  person,  but  even  when  no  venge- 
ance for  trespass  is  to  be  feared.  The  first  step  toward  the 
institution  of  private  property  is  the  fear  of  the  owner;  the 


520  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

second  is  fear  of  the  group  which  has  learned  to  acknowledge 
and  support  the  claims  of  the  owners,  including  fear  of  the 
ghosts  and  gods  of  the  group  who  are  believed  to  take  part 
in  enforcing  group  customs ;  the  third  step  is  the  turning  in 
upon  himself,  by  the  individual,  of  the  condemnation  which 
he  has  learned  to  feel  toward  others  who  violate  group  stand- 
ards of  regard  for  property  rights,  so  that  the  individual's 
own  self-judgment  enforces  upon  himself  the  regard  for  prop- 
erty which  as  a  member  of  the  group  he  has  learned  to  help 
enforce  upon  others.  The  institution  of  property  is  a  typical 
moral  institution. 

Some  of  the  earliest  instances  of  institutionalized  property 
rights  which  we  can  observe  have  been  developed  in  connec- 
tion with  forms  of  property  which  must  be  let  alone  while 
they  are  maturing.  If  there  were  no  social  convention  to 
protect  a  bunch  of  bananas  or  a  bee  tree,  few  fine  bunches 
of  bananas  would  be  allowed  to  ripen  on  the  tree  in  a  populous 
neighborhood  and  few  bee  trees  would  be  fully  stored  with 
honey,  for  every  man  would  say  a  little  honey  and  green 
bananas  are  better  than  none.  The  native  of  the  Upper  Nile 
Valley  or  the  pygmy  of  the  Congo  finding  a  choice  bunch 
of  bananas  shoots  an  arrow  into  it,  and  thereafter  all  comers* 
know  that  it  has  been  spoken  for,  and  let  it  alone.  Similarly 
a  bee  tree,  or  one  of  those  trees  that  when  broken  off  at  the 
top  become  receptacles  for  a  rich  deposit  of  edible  grubs, 
are  marked  by  the  finder  and  his  rights  are  recognized.  The 
Australian  black  fellow  setting  out  upon  a  journey  on  which 
he  does  not  wish  to  carry  all  his  belongings,  deposits  those  he 
will  leave  behind  in  a  conspicuous  place,  makes  a  clear  im- 
print of  his  foot  beside  them  and  expects  them  to  be  un- 
molested during  his  absence. 

Communistic  institutions  of  property  have  also  a  very 
early  origin.  Groups  assert  their  common  ownership  of  hunt- 
ing grounds,  of  nesting  beaches  where  eggs  abound,  and  other 
natural  sources  of  food  supply,  and  of  the  stores  which  have 
been  laid  up  for  seasons  of  scarcity.  It  does  not  require 
the  existence  of  an  institution  of  communal  property  to  make 
people  assert  such  claims  against  alien  groups,  but  the  exist- 


ence  of 'such  an  institution  appears  in  the  assertion  of  these 
claims  by  public  opinion  not  merely  against  aliens  but  also 
against  the  rapacity  of  individuals  within  the  group.  Group 
opinion  among  savages  tends  steadily  to  subordinate  all  indi- 
vidual claims  to  communal  claims  and  this  may  be  done  in 
the  case  of  property  by  an  elaborate  and  precise  system  of 
institutionalized  requirements.  Such  is  the  case,  for  example, 
among  the  Australians,  where  a  hunter  by  no  means  regards 
the  game  he  kills  as  belonging  exclusively  to  himself,  but 
knows  exactly  how  it  should  be  divided  among  the  members 
of  the  encampment.  Among  the  Esquimaux  also  and  other 
savages  whose  institutions  have  not  been  mixed  with  those 
of  civilized  invaders,  "life  is  based  upon  communism,  and 
what  is  obtained  by  hunting  and  fishing  belongs  to  the  clan." 
Normally,  in  accordance  either  with  fact  or  cherished  fiction, 
every  savage  regards  all  clansfolk  as  his  near  kindred,  and 
shares  with  .them  according  to  established  customs.  Savages 
of  this  stage  of  economic  development  are  unable  to  under- 
stand how  superabundance  and  pitiful  want  can  exist  side 
by  side  as  they  do  in  our  cities.  "I  remember,"  says  Kropot- 
kin,1  "how  vainly  I  tried  to  make  some  of  my  Tungus  friends 
understand  our  civilization  of  individualism;  they  could  not, 
and  they  resorted  to  the  most  fantastical  suggestions.  The 
fact  is  that  a  savage,  brought  up  in  ideas  of  tribal  solidarity 
in  everything,  is  as  incapable  of  understanding  a  'moral'  Euro- 
pean, who  knows  nothing  of  that  solidarity,  as  the  average 
European  is  incapable  of  understanding  the  savage." 

The  exchange  of  presents  is  more  primitive  than  trade. 
It  is  common  for  savages  to  express  and  cement  friendship 
in  this  way,  as  David  and  Jonathan  did.  They  also  frequently 
exchange  a  little  of  their  blood  on  similar  occasions,  and 
there  is  little  or  no  more  evidence  of  an  institution  of  property 
in  the  one  way  of  exchanging  pledges  than  in  the  other.  The 
practice  of  securing  the  favor  and  protection  of  powerful 
men  by  means  of  gifts  has  continued  throughout  barbarism, 
has  survived  in  feudal  benefits  which  were  nominally  the  free 

1  P.  Kropotkin :  Mutual  Aid  a  Factor  of  Evolution.  New  York, 
1903,  p.  105. 


522  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

contributions  of  loyal  impulse,  and  was  a  forerunner  of  "taxes" 
paid  by  the  citizenship  of  a  nation  as  distinguished  from 
"tribute,"  which  was  paid  by  aliens  for  immunity  from 
slaughter  and  spoliation.  Exchange  of  gifts  has  often  been 
a  customary  accompaniment  of  the  exercise  of  hospitality  and 
by  this  means  distinctive  products  of  savage  industry  have 
been  known  to  pass  from  people  to  people,  so  as  to  be  dis- 
tributed in  regions  very  remote  from  their  places  of  origin. 
Foreign  commerce  appears  to  have  been  more  primitive  than 
domestic  trade;  that  is  to  say,  a  people  living  where  there  is 
a  supply  of  salt,  or  some  other  natural  product  which  other 
peoples  lack,  or  having  developed  some  craft  or  skill  the 
product  of  which  other  peoples  want,  exchange  with  each 
other  the  goods  with  which  they  are  especially  well  supplied 
for  other  goods  in  which  they  are  deficient.  Those  who  bring 
these  rare  products  are  welcomed;  and  among  Negroes,  East 
Indians,  and  Polynesians,  understandings  have  been  reached 
by  which,  even  among  hostile  tribes,  persons  may  go  back 
and  forth  as  merchants  with  immunity  from  violence,  or  else 
certain  places  have  been  set  aside  as  markets,  where  fighting 
was  taboo  and  goods  might  be  exchanged  in  inter-tribal  bar- 
ter ;  and  among  the  Mosquitos  of  Honduras,  "Aboriginal  wars 
were  continually  waged  .  .  .  neighboring  tribes,  however, 
agreed  to  a  truce  at  certain  times,  to  allow  the  interchange  of 
goods."  Thus  early  does  commerce  demand  peace. 

The  fiction  that  barter  is  a  friendly  exchange  of  gifts  is 
considerably  persistent  even  though  in  such  exchange  the  for- 
midable savage  tends  to  get  from  the  weaker  what  he  wants  for 
whatever  he  chooses  to  give.  The  principle  of  novelty  which 
makes  the  proffered  article  more  interesting  and  alluring  than 
property  that  has  been  long  possessed,  and  the  possibilities 
of  suggestion  and  of  filling  the  purchaser's  attention  with  ad- 
vantages so  that  disadvantages  are  overlooked,  make  the  savage 
an  easy  victim  to  practiced  traders ;  indeed  for  his  more  sophis- 
ticated descendant  the  arts  of  salesmanship  too  easily  lead 
to  bargains  that  are  followed  by  regret,  and  give  trade  a 
name  that  is  allied  to  Trug  (deceit). 

In  the  exchange  of  gifts  the  thought  of  equivalence  in 


EXAMPLES  OF  SOCIAL  EVOLUTION  523 

value  has  little  or  no  place,  and  the  idea  of  such  equivalence 
develops  rather  slowly.  It  may  be  that  this  idea  does  not 
become  clearly  established  as  a  principle  of  trade  until  after 
some  one  commodity  has  come  to  be  customarily  thought  of 
as  the  standard  of  values. 

Whenever  there  is  a  commodity  that  everybody  wants, 
then  whoever  has  more  of  that  commodity  than  he  cares  to 
use  can  be  sure  of  getting  the  things  which  others  have  to* 
sell  in  exchange  for  his  surplus  of  this  universally  desired 
commodity.  This  causes  such  a  commodity  to  be  desired  not 
only  for  its  original  uses,  but  also  as  a  means  of  getting  other 
things;  and  when  any  group  of  people  customarily  regard 
any  given  commodity  as  their  means  of  getting  other  things 
in  exchange,  then  that  commodity  has  become  their  money — 
certainly  a  medium  of  exchange,  probably  a  standard  by  which 
to  measure  all  other  economic  values,  and  possibly  a  means 
of  storing  accumulations,  as  well  as  ultimately  a  standard  of 
deferred  payment  and  a  reserve  basis  for  credit  transactions. 
Where  there  is  no  medium  of  exchange  each  buyer,  besides 
wanting  what  the  seller  chances  to  have,  must  also  have  what 
the  seller  chances  to  want,  and  trade  takes  place  only  now 
and  then,  by  virtue  of  this  double  coincidence.  But  where 
there  is  a  recognized  medium  of  exchange — a  money  com- 
modity— whoever  has  that  commodity  can  buy  whatever  he 
wants  of  whoever  has  it  to  sell,  and  whoever  can  produce  a 
saleable  commodity  is  encouraged  to  do  so  since  he  can  afford 
to  dispose  of  it,  not  only  to  one  who  chances  to  have  what 
the  producer  wants  to  use,  but  to  anyone  who  has  the  money 
commodity.  He  can  always  afford  to  take  the  latter,  though 
he  does  not  want  it  save  to  give  in  exchange  for  whatever 
else  he  may  desire.  Under  these  conditions  trade  takes  place 
on  every  hand,  and  production  for  purposes  of  trade  is  stimu- 
lated, so  that  instead  of  the  poverty  and  hand  to  mouth  exist- 
ence of  the  earlier  savages,  we  are  on  the  way  toward  pos- 
sessing the  necessary  economic  basis  for  civilization. 

General  desirability  and  acceptability  is  the  primary  quali- 
fication for  a  money  commodity.  Various  commodities  have 
served  as  the  medium  of  exchange:  a  standard  food,  as  rice. 


524  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

maize,  wheat,  dried  fish,  cacao  beans,  dates,  nuts ;  a  condiment, 
as  salt,  olive  oil,  cocoanut  oil;  a  pleasure  drug,  as  tobacco, 
tea,  coffee,  betel  nut;  a  clothing  stuff,  as  furs,  cotton,  silk; 
cattle,  sheep,  and  horses;  a  standard  tool  or  weapon;  above 
all  a  generally  prized  means  of  personal  adornment  as  gold 
(even  the  placer  dust  put  up  in  goose  quills),  other  metals, 
cowry  shells,  teeth  of  whales,  fine  feathers;  indeed  "it  would 
be  difficult  to  say  what  has  not  been  used  as  money  at  some 
-time  or  place." 

The  early  planters  of  Virginia  and  Maryland  used  tobacco 
as  currency  for  a  century  or  more.  The  settlers  of  New 
England  adopted  the  wampum  currency  of  the  Indians  in 
trading  with  each  other  as  well  as  with  the  aborigines,  and 
used  beaver-skins  among  themselves  and  in  trade  with  the 
mother  country.  To  serve  well  as  a  medium  of  exchange 
and  standard  of  values  a  commodity  must  be  highly  divisible, 
so  as  to  fit  either  small  or  large  transactions ;  to  be  convenient 
and  to  be  suitable  for  a  means  of  storing  accumulations  it 
must  be  durable  and  portable  and  have  great  value  in  small 
bulk.  All  of  these  qualifications,  together  with  homogeneity 
and  malleability  by  which  to  receive  a  recognizable  stamp, 
are  possessed  by  no  other  commodity  in  such  degree  as  by 
the  metals,  especially  for  large  values,  the  "precious"  metals. 
It  is  significant  that  for  both  savage  and  civilized  men  the 
precious  things  par  excellence,  are  the  means  of  personal 
adornment: — gold  and  beads.  The  diamond  and  ruby  and 
pearl  are  our  favorite  beads. 


CHAPTER   XXIX 
EXAMPLES   OF   SOCIAL  EVOLUTION    (Continued) 

The  Family. — Scholars  may  never  agree  in  their  inferences 
and  conjectures  as  to  the  primitive  relations  between  men  and 
women  and  their  offspring.  Those  primitive  conditions  passed 
away  long  before  the  dawn  of  history.  Perhaps  a  little  amuse- 
ment is  justified  whenever  we  see  the  practices  of  savages 
in  this  respect  seriously  appealed  to  for  light  as  to  what  should 
be  the  ideal  of  an  advanced  society.  We  might  as  well  appeal 
to  the  wattle  hut  and  the  dugout  for  our  architectural  designs. 
•There  are,  however,  no  living  savages  among  whom  the 
relations  between  the  sexes  are  entirely  promiscuous  and  un- 
regulated. Savages  who  tolerate  or  approve  some  practices 
that  to  us  seem  most  shocking  often  enforce  their  own  regu- 
lations for  the  conduct  of  men  and  women  with  tremendous 
severity.  "Monogamy  appears  to  be  the  prevailing  form  of 
family  precisely  among  people  the  least  advanced  in  general 
culture  and  particularly  in  the  economic  arts.  Among  some 
of  the  very  lowest,  as  the  Veddahs  of  Ceylon,  there  is  free 
courtship,  no  divorce,  no  prostitution  and  no  form  of  marriage 
but  monogamous  unions  and  these  characterized  by  great 
fidelity  and  lasting  until  death."  1 

If  we  are  to  form  inferences  concerning  the  primitive 
state,  in  these  respects,  we  may  well  remember:  first,  that 
not  promiscuity  but  pairing  as  a  rule  is  characteristic  of  the 
animals  most  closely  related  to  man;  second,  that  in  a  state 
of  nature  the  jealousy  of  males  tends  to  forbid  any  second 
male  to  have  relations  with  a  female  to  whom  a  first  male 
asserts  a  claim;  third,  that  the  method  of  nature  with  the 
lower  animals  is  to  provide  a  multitude  of  offspring  and 

1  G.  E.  Howard :  History  of  Matrimonial  Institutions.  University 
of  Chicago  Press,  1904,  i,  141. 

525 


526  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

leave  their  survival  to  chance,  but  with  the  higher  animals 
the  method  of  nature  is  to  afford  to  a  few  offspring  the 
utmost  care,  and  in  the  case  of  the  highest  animals  this  in- 
cludes the  care  of  both  parents,  the  father  joining  with  the 
mother,  not  only  in  defending  their  offspring,  but  also  in 
providing  food,  at  first  for  the  mother  and  later  for  the  young 
as  well.  Pairing,  which  affords  to  the  offspring  the  care  of 
both  parents,  has  great  survival  value,  and  is  therefore  se- 
lected as  nature's  method  by  the  operation  of  her  inviolable 
law.  This  is  especially  true  of  the  highest  of  all  mammals 
because  the  helplessness  of  human  children  is  greatly  pro- 
longed, maturity  not  being  reached  until  after  the  lapse  of 
years,  and  it  is  far  from  being  the  case  that  the  offspring  of 
one  birth  is  independent  before  another  birth  takes  place,  so 
that  mating  when  it  lasted  through  the  dependency  of  the 
offspring  would  as  a  rule  cover  the  whole  period  of  the 
parents'  fertility  and  be  practically  for  life.  Primitive  pair- 
ing appears  to  be  based  upon  instinct  and  biological  necessity. 

But  after  man  begins  to  emancipate  himself  from  the 
control  of  nature,  after  certain  groups  become  strong  enough 
and  rich  enough  to  secure  survival  in  spite  of  biologically 
costly  indulgences,  there  is  invented  every  sort  of  aberration 
from  nature's  simple  and  biologically  efficient  plan.  It  is 
among  the  higher  savages  and  especially  among  the  barbarians 
and  lower  civilized  people  that  pairing  is  set  aside  for  group 
marriage,  polygyny,  and  polyandry.  It  is  useless  to  attempt 
to  arrange  the  different  marriage  customs  in  a  serial  order 
of  development.  All  that  can  be  said  is  that  under  one  set 
of  conditions  a  corresponding  set  of  customs  grew  up  and 
under  other  conditions  other  customs.  Among  these  customs 
we  must  note  exogamy,  the  classificatory  system  of  relation- 
ships, the  matronymic  family,  wife-purchase,  group  marriages, 
polyandry,  polygyny,  and  patriarchy. 

Exogamy. — The  practice  of  exogamy  and  the  matronymic 
family  have  been  so  widespread  that  the  statement  is  some- 
times ventured  that  all  peoples  which  rise  high  enough  in 
social  development  pass  into  and  finally  out  of  a  stage  charac- 
terized by  this  usage.  Hordes  of  savages  that  increase  in 


EXAMPLES  OF  SOCIAL  EVOLUTION  527 

number  till  the  food  supplies  which  they  find  do  not  suffice, 
are  forced  to  separate  into  two  hordes  or  "moieties."  These 
two  likewise  tend  to  become  four,  and  the  four  to  become 
eight,  and  the  eight,  sixteen.  This  scheme  of  multiplication 
by  division  is  not  sure  to  be  exactly  carried  out,  any  more  than 
the  characteristic  phyllotaxy  of  its  species  can  be  traced  in 
every  botanical  specimen;  the  growth  of  a  given  twig,  or 
savage  tribe,  is  subject  to  too  many  accidents,  yet  the  general 
tendency  is  discernible.  These  subdivisions  of  the  same  tribe 
are  called  clans.  Each  clan  is  likely  to  be  distinguished  by 
its  peculiar  totem.  Exogamy  is  the  custom  which  requires  a 
man  to  find  his  wife  in  another  clan  or  totem-group  than 
his  own. 

Why  at  a  certain  stage  of  social  evolution  men  should 
have  been  so  generally  required  to  seek  their  mates  outside 
their  own  group  is  somewhat  difficult  to  understand.1  It  can 
hardly  be  due,  as  McLennan  thought,  to  infanticide  compelling 
man  to  seek  his  mate  abroad,  for  on  that  hypothesis  why 
should  another  exogamous  group  be  better  supplied  with  mar- 
riageable girls  than  the  man's  own;  besides  that  theory  gives 
no  explanation  of  the  fact  that  such  girls  as  do  grow  up  within 
the  clan  cannot  be  married  by  men  of  their  own  clan,  more- 
over infanticide  though  somewhat  common  among  peoples 
who  have  developed  motives  that  override  nature,  is  not  a 
general  practice  of  any  primitive  people,  and  when  it  occurs 
among  the  primitive  is  due  to  scarcity  of  food  and  ill  health 
of  the  mother,  which  may  cause  the  death  of  boys  as  well 
as  of  girls.  A  practice  so  widespread  must  probably  be  due 
to  something  inherent  in  human  nature ;  though  the  fact 
that  it  passes  away  shows  clearly  that  some  transitory  condi- 
tion also  plays  a  part  in  its  causation.  One  such  transitory 
condition  was  clan  organization.  The  trait  of  human  nature 
may  have  been  the  preference  of  out-wandering  savages  for 
women  who  had  the  charm  of  novelty  and  mystery,  rather 
than  for  the  women  whom  they  had  familiarly  seen  from 

1  For  a  summary  of  the  theories  of  Bachof en,  Morgan,  Lubbock, 
Tylor,  Kohler,  McLennan  and  Spencer,  on  the  causes  of  exogamy,  see 
Howard :  History  of  Matrimonial  Institutions,  especially  vol.  i,  chap.  2. 


528  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

girlhood  about  the  drudgery  of  the  camp  and  from  whose  com- 
pany they  had  been  formally  promoted  by  the  ceremonies 
which  at  puberty  transfer  boys  from  association  with  the 
women  and  girls  of  the  clan  to  association  with  the  men. 
Lack  of  sex  interest  or  even  a  feeling  of  repugnance  to  sex  in- 
timacy with  respect  to  individuals  with  whom  there  had  been 
too  great  familiarity  before  puberty  has  been  remarked,  and 
by  some  is  thought  to  amount  almost,  or  quite,  to  an  instinc- 
tive aversion,  to  be  indeed  the  real  essence  of  the  supposed 
instinct  against  incest.  The  study  of  evolution  in  all  fields 
teaches  that  great  results  flow  from  seemingly  small  causes 
provided  the  causes  are  sufficiently  general  and  constant.  Such 
a  preference  for  unfamiliar  women  even  though  slight,  if  it 
were  actually  general,  might  be  effective  in  causing  the  cus- 
tom of  exogamy.  The  futility  of  the  numerous  and  ingenious 
attempts  to  account  for  exogamy  on  any  other  theory  than 
that  of  general  preference  leaves  that  cause  as  the  principal 
one  that  has  been  discovered.  Doubtless  the  prestige  of 
leaders  had  also  a  part  in  fixing  the  practice  of  exogamy  as 
an  accepted  custom.  This  implies  that  the  most  vigorous  and 
admired  men  were  the  ones  at  first  most  likely  to  break  away 
from  the  commonplace  of  the  camp  in  finding  their  mates. 
Spencer  would  have  it  that  mating  with  a  woman  of  one's 
own  group  ultimately  became  disgraceful  for  all  men  because 
great  chiefs  possessed  captured  wives.1  And  the  custom  of 

1  This  suggestion  of  Spencer  receives  apparent  corroboration  from 
the  pantomime  of  wife-stealing  which  so  often  occurs  in  the  marriage 
ceremony  of  barbarous  peoples.  This  piece  of  mimicry,  however,  is 
not  thought  to  indicate  that  wife-capture  was  once  the  usual  mode  of 
obtaining  a  mate  among  all  those  peoples  among  whom  exogamy  has 
prevailed,  for  the  clan  solidarity  is  such  that  to  steal  a  woman  would 
make  every  man  in  the  clan  of  the  thief  liable  to  vengeance  from 
every  man  in  the  clan  from  which  the  woman  had  been  stolen,  and 
therefore  would  be  likely  to  make  the  thief  reprehensible  to  all  the 
men  of  both  clans.  Sufficient  causes  for  the  frequent  pantomime  of 
wife-capture  in  wedding  ceremonies  may  be  found  in  the  occasional 
occurrence  of  the  theft  of  a  woman,  especially  in  time  of  war,  in  the 
romantic  and  dramatic  interest  of  such  an  act,  and  in  the  fact  that  it 
is  a  concession  to  the  coyness  of  the  maiden  who  is  made  to  seem  to 
be  forced  to  give  her  consent. 


EXAMPLES  OF  SOCIAL  EVOLUTION  529 

mating  outside  the  clan  once  fixed,  marriages  within  the  clan 
were  usually  regarded  as  immoral,  though  some  peoples  have 
allowed  exogamy  and  endogamy  to  exist  together.  Mendelism 
has  reenforced  our  belief  in  the  evils  of  inbreeding,  and  while 
it  seems  incredible  that  foresight  of  these  evils  should  have 
originated  the  general  practice  of  exogamy,  as  Morgan  thought, 
still  it  may  be  that  natural  selection  favored  the  survival  and 
spread  of  those  peoples  who  practiced  it.  But  exogamous 
unions  carried  on  for  generations  between  the  same  clans  do 
not  preclude  inbreeding,  and  while  some  of  the  rules  for 
selecting  wives  seem  to  be  aimed  to  prevent  inbreeding,  others 
of  these  rules  actually  require  it.  We  may  refuse  to  think 
as  Tylor  and  Kohler  propose,  that  exogamy  arose  from  the 
desire  to  prevent  inter-clan  slaughter  by  a  system  of  diplomatic 
marriages,  yet  exogamy  once  established  would  tend  to  keep 
the  clans  from  exterminating  one  another  and  to  secure  sur- 
vival, multiplication,  unity,  and  strength  to  the  peoples  prac- 
ticing it,  and  so  help  to  account  for  its  wide  prevalence. 

The  Classificatory  System  of  Relationships. — Among  exoga- 
mous peoples  it  is  not  always  every  clan  outside  his  own  in 
which  a  man  may  choose  his  wife,  nor  every  woman  in  a 
clan  to  which  he  may  go  a-wooing  that  he  may  select.  On  the 
contrary  there  exist  various  and  sometimes  amazing  regula- 
tions as  to  which  woman  he  should  and  which  he  should  not, 
marry.  These  regulations  often  commend  the  marriage  of  a 
woman  related  to  the  man  in  blood,  so  that  after  the  mating 
takes  place  the  wife's  relatives  are  related  to  the  husband 
both  by  blood  and  by  marriage.  The  intricacy  of  kinship 
and  the  punctiliousness  with  which  it  is  traced  and  regarded 
among  such  peoples  as  the  Australians  and  Melanesians  are 
astounding.  This  is,  accompanied  by  the  classificatory  system 
of  nomenclature,  under  which  most  and  in  some  cases  all,  of 
the  designations  of  kinship — father,  mother,  husband,  etc. — 
do  not  refer  to  single  individuals  but  to  whole  classes  of 
persons.  "The  term  'father,'  for  instance,  is  applied  to  all 
those  whom  the  father  would  call  brother,  and  to  all  the  hus- 
bands of  those  whom  the  mother  calls  sister,  both  brother 
and*  sister  being  used  in  a  far  wider  sense  than  among  pujv 


530  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

selves.  In  some  forms  of  the  classificatory  system  the  term 
'father'  is  also  used  for  all  those  whom  the  mother  would 
call  brother,  and  for  all  the  husbands  of  those  whom  the  father 
would  call  sister.  .  .  .  Similarly  the  term  used  for  the  wife 
may  be  applied  to  all  those  whom  the  wife  would  call  sister 
and  to  the  wives  of  all  those  whom  the  speaker  calls  brother, 
brother  and  sister  again  being  used  in  a  far  wider  sense  than 
in  our  own  language." *  In  fact  our  words  "father"  and 
"wife"  do  not  serve  as  equivalents  for  these  classificatory 
designations.  Furthermore  it  is  often  though  not  always  the 
case  that  this  nomenclature  carries  with  it  clearly  defined 
duties,  privileges,  and  restrictions  governing  the  conduct  of 
the  individual  toward  all  those  whom  he  calls  by  a  given 
classificatory  name.  The  individual  is  imbedded  in  a  ramify- 
ing network  of  social  relationships.  We  have  by  no  means 
reached  complete  explanations  of  all  these  facts,  but  they 
seem  to  be  bound  up  with  the  sense  of  the  supreme  impor- 
tance of  group  solidarity,  or  perhaps  it  would  be  better  to  say, 
with  an  instinctive  emotion  of  partisanship.  "All  the  main 
features  of  the  classificatory  system  become  at  once  natural 
and  intelligible  if  this  system  had  its  origin  in  a  social  struc- 
ture in  which  the  exogamous  social  groups,  such  as  the  clan 
or  moiety,  were  even  more  completely  and  essentially  the  social 
units  than  we  know  them  to  be  to-day"  among  the  peoples 
referred  to.2  The  unity  of  the  clan  is  apparently  a  more  vivid 
and  important  fact  of  consciousness  than  the  individuality 
of  any  person,  and  when  a  man  forms  a  union  with  a  woman, 
the  fact  that  one  of  his  clan  has  married  into  her  clan  seems 
more  important  to  both  groups  than  the  mere  relation  between 
the  two  individuals  primarily  concerned.  Such  a  society  has 

1W.  A.  R.  Rivers:  Kinship  and  Social  Organization,  p.  2.  Com- 
pare :  History  of  Melanesian  Society,  Cambridge  University  Press ; 
and  Systems  on  Consanguinity  and  Affinity  of  the  Human  Family, 
Smithsonian  .Contributions  to  Knowledge,  1871,  xvii;  and  A.  W.  How- 
itt:  Native  Tribes  of  Southeast  Australia,  Macmillan  1904,  chaps.  3,  4, 
5 ;  'and  Spencer  and  Gillen :  The  Northern  Tribes  of  Central  Australia, 
Macmillan,  1904,  chap,  iii;  and  The  Native  Tribes  of  Central  Australia, 
Macmillan,  1899,  chap.  2. 

'Qp.  cit.,  p.  71. 


EXAMPLES  OF  SOCIAL  EVOLUTION  531 

a  set  of  organizing  concepts  utterly  foreign  to  our  way  of 
thinking. 

Classificatory  use  of  the  words  that  apply  to  wives  and 
husbands  may  have  arisen  in  connection  with  the  practice  of 
group  marriages  later  to  be  described.  But  application  of  the 
word  "sister"  to  wives'  sisters  and  brothers'  wives  in  some 
cases  definitely  excludes  from  sexual  relation  the  very  person 
who  would  be  included  in  such  relation  under  group  mar- 
riage. "To  a  Melanesian,  as  to  other  people  of  rude  culture, 
the  use  of  the  term  otherwise  applied  to  a  sister  carries  with 
it  such  deeply  seated  associations  as  to  put  sexual  relations 
absolutely  out  of  the  question."  1 

The  Matronymic  Family. — The  matronymic  family  exists  as 
long  as  the  wife  continues  after  marriage  to  be  a  member 
of  her  clan,  and  her  children  belong  to  her  clan,  inherit  her 
name  and  totem  and  household  gods,  and  if  the  children  are 
male  and  there  is  rank  and  property  to  be  inherited  they 
inherit  from  their  mother's  family.  Neither  can  the  man 
nor  his  belongings  be  alienated  from  his  clan,  and  if  he  leaves 
anything  to  be  inherited  it  must  go  to  his  nearest  relatives 
within  his  own  clan,  that  is,  to  his  sister's  children  and  not 
to  his  own.  That  descent  should  at  first  be  reckoned  through 
the  mother's  and  not  through  the  father's  line  and  that  chil- 
dren should  belong  to  their  mother's  clan  is  most  natural,  in 
view  of  the  obvious  connection  between  mother  and  offspring, 
in  view  of  the  fact  that  savage  children  follow  their  mothers 
for  a  long  time,  and  frequently  are  suckled  for  a  period  of 
years,  there  being  no  other  milk  and  little  other  proper  food 
for  infants,  and  wherever  exogamy  existed  it  was  rendered 
almost  inevitable  by  the  powerful  clan  solidarity  which  would 
not  allow  children  so  long  in  the  group  to  be  separated  from 
it,  to  become  part  of  the  father's  clan. 

Matronymic  society  is  sometimes  referred  to  as  "matri- 
archal." It  is  true  that  population  groups  originally  gathered 
about  mothers  by  natural  increase,  though  usually  the  number 
of  children  reared  by  a  savage  mother  is  not  large ;  it  is  true 
that  the  camp  and  the  first  tilled  patches  were  made  and 

1  Rivers :    op.  at.,  p.  62. 


532  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

occupied  by  the  women  with  their  children;  and  in  these 
senses  women  were  the  living  protoplasm  and  roaming  men 
were  the  rind  and  spines  of  the  primitive  social  organism. 
It  is  also  true  that  in  exogamous  society  woman  has  the 
power  to  reject  unwelcome  suitors,  and  that  the  power  of 
divorce  belongs  to  her,  while  man  is  obliged  to  make  himself 
persona  grata  to  her  and  to  her  group.  Yet  woman  never 
ruled  man,  as  the  word  "matriarchy"  implies.  But  in  very 
early  society  men  and  women  have  been  more  nearly  on  an 
equality  than  in  barbarous  and  lower  civilized  societies.1 

Transition  to  Patronymic  Family. — The  state  of  custom  by 
which  a  man's  wife  and  children  belonged  to  one  clan  while 
he  belonged  to  another  was  not  very  satisfactory  to  man. 
He  was  obliged  to  go  away  from  his  own  people,  and  to  make 
himself  acceptable  to  a  group  of  outsiders  whenever  he  de- 
sired her  company.  His  wife  did  not  tan  hides  or  prepare 
food  for  him.  His  children  did  not  reenforce  his  own  clan, 
and  were  not  in  any  important  sense  his  own.2  Yet  it  was 
impossible  to  take  his  wife  away  from  her  own  people.  They 
claimed  her  labor  and  her  children.  To  have  stolen  her  would 
have  made  every  man  in  the  husband's  clan  an  object  of 
vengeance  to  every  man  in  the  clan  of  the  wife.  One  expedi- 
ent remained,  and  that  was  to  purchase  her. 

But  the  desire  to  make  such  purchases  arose  before  men 
had  any  accumulations  of  transferable  property  adequate  to 
the  purpose.  This  led  to  the  exchange  of  women.  A  man 
would  give  a  sister,  or  later  in  life  a  daughter,  in  exchange  for 
a  wife.  Such  has  been,  for  example,  the  usual  practice  of- 

1  Among  the  Iroquois  we  have  perhaps  the  nearest  approach  to 
true  matriarchy.  The  women  who  kept  the  "long  house"  elected  one 
sachem  who  should  join  in  council  with  four  chosen  women,  and  when 
this  council  of  five  went  up  to  unite  with  similar  quintets  from  the 
other  long  houses  in  tribal  council  the  men  were  outnumbered  by  the 
women  four  to  one.  Yet  the  men,  partly  by  virtue  of  their  wider 
experience,  are  supposed  to  have  been  looked  to  for  the  chief  guidance. 

aThe  curious  custom  of  the  "couvade,"  in  which  the  father  took 
to  his  bed  at  the  birth  of  a  child,  may  have  been  a  means  of  asserting 
the  claim  that  he,  too,  was  a  parent  of  the  child,  as  well  as  being  an 
exercise  of  "sympathetic  magic"  in  the  interests  of  child  and  mother. 


EXAMPLES  OF  SOCIAL  EVOLUTION  533 

the  Australians.  Another  method  has  been  for  the  poor  man, 
or  any  man  in  a  society  too  primitive  to  have  stores  of  trans- 
ferable wealth,  to  give  personal  service  in  exchange  for  a 
wife.1  This  practice  has  prevailed  widely  in  Africa,  Asia,  the 
island  countries,  and  in  America  2  in  regions  as  widely  sepa- 
rated as  Alaska  and  Tierra  del  Fuego.  Among  a  hunting 
people  the  aspirant  to  a  maiden's  hand  brings  game  and  fish 
to  her  parents,  builds  the  hut,  provides  firewood,  makes  canoes, 
nets,  and  weapons.  Under  this  custom  the  suitor  has  a  pro- 
tracted period  of  probation,  implying  acquaintance,  friendship, 
and  the  acquiescence  of  the  woman,  and  a  high  sense  of  her 
value  on  the  part  of  the  man. 

But  with  the  accumulation  of  wealth  these  practices  give 
way  to  mere  purchases  in  which  wives  become  regular  ob- 
jects of  barter,  paid  for  in  cattle,  horses,  camels  or  shell  money, 
and  the  wishes  of  the  woman  are  no  more  consulted  than 
the  wishes  of  the  cattle  offered  in  exchange.  Under  this 
system  woman,  of  course,  loses  the  power  of  divorce  which 
she  had  formerly  possessed  with  other  rights  and  advantages. 
The  rich  and  old  men  buy  young  wives  and  young  men  often 
must  content  themselves  with  wives  that  are  old  and  cheap. 
Among  the  Zulu  a  woman  whose  lack  of  health  and  strength 
prevents  her  from  being  a  good  laborer,  or  who  proves  child- 
less, can  be  returned  and  the  purchase  price  demanded  back. 
Sometimes  a  wife  is  pawned  or  mortgaged,  sometimes  paid 
for  on  installments. 

Among  every  people  that  has  risen  to  the  patronymic 
organization  of  the  family,  of  whom  we  have  sufficient  knowl- 
edge to  justify  any  assertion,  wife-purchase  has  been  prac- 
ticed. Such  evidence  as  we  possess  indicates  that  it  has  existed 
in  all  branches  of  the  Aryan  and  Semitic  races.3 

1  Compare  the  twice  seven  years  of  service  which  Jacob  rendered 
to  Laban  in  return  for  Rachel  and  Leah.  Genesis,  29. 

z  Compare  H.  H.  Bancroft :  Native  Races  of  the  Pacific  State. 
Appleton,  1875,  i,  134  seq. 

3  That  the  form  of  marriage  among  the  Hebrews  at  the  time  of 
Ruth  and  Boaz,  was  calling  witnesses  to  attest  a  bargain  by  which  the 
wife  had  been  purchased  is  indicated  by  Ruth  4:10.  Compare  Deut. 
22 : 29. 


534  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

Wife-purchase  makes  the  man  the  center  of  the  family  and 
the  children  his  children. 

Group  Marriage,  Polyandry,  and  Polygamy.— Among  the 
marital  vagaries  into  which  men  entered  after  they  had  broken 
away  from  nature's  stricter  regime  is  the  "punalucnV'  f  amily_. 

In  the  punaluan x  family  a  little  group  of  men,  usually 
brothers,  married  a  little  group  of  women,  usually  sisters, 
every  woman  in  the  group  being  a  wife  to  every  man  in  the 
group.  This  type  of  domestic  organization  is  but  ill  adapted 
to  develop  the  higher  type  of  personal  relationship  which 
makes  families  the  crystallizing  centers  of  social  stability  and. 
the  foci  of  life's  values.  The  punaluan  family  has  existed 
within  historic  times,  not  only  in  Hawaii,  but  also  in  Europe, 
Asia,  and  America. 

Po]y^andry_  is  that  type  of  domestic  organization  in  which 
a  little  group  of  men,  usually  brothers,  become  the  husbands 
of  one  woman.  Westermark  and  Howard  state  that  polyandry 
is  usually  connected  with  an  excess  of  males  over  females  in 
the  population,  due  to  natural  causes,  or  to  female  infanticide, 
or  both,  and  that  the  husbands  ordinarily  live  with  the  wives 
by  turns.  Among  the  Thibetans  all  the  husbands  save  one 
are  commonly  away  with  the  flocks  in  distant  pastures. 
Polyandry  seems  to  have  but  one  advantage,  and  that  is  its 
disadvantage,  namely  its  lack  of  fertility.  It  persists  only 
under  hard  conditions ;  where  nature  is  most  niggardly  and  not 
many  mouths  can  be  filled.  Polyandry  is  the  form  of  family 
best  fitted  to  keep  down  population.  It  still  survives  in  a 
few  places,  especially  in  Thibet,  on  the  cold  Himalayan 
plateaux  ten  thousand  feet  and  more  above  the  sea,  and  among 
the  probably  socially  decadent  Nairs  and  the  Dravidian  Todas 
of  India.  The  so-called  polyandry  of  the  Todas,  however,  is 
rather  an  extreme  liberty  on  the  part  of  the  women  to  divorce 
husbands  and  choose  new  ones.  Not  all  the  women  among 
the  Todas  exercise  this  freedom  but  some  permanently  retain 
a  single  mate  in  monogamous  union. 

Polygyny  is  the  custom  which  allows  one  man  to  have 
several  wives  at  the  same  time.  This  practice  has  generally 

1 A  Hawaiian  word. 


EXAMPLES  OF  SOCIAL  EVOLUTION  535 

been  permitted  by  higher  savage  and  barbarous  .peoples,  indeed 
it  may  be  said  to  become  universally  approved  when  the  cus- 
tom of  wife-purchase  is  established.  However,  among  polyg- 
ynous  peoples,  as  a  rule,  only  a  small  minority  composed  of 
the  rich  and  powerful  actually  have  plural  wives,  because 
the  difficulty  of  maintaining  so  large  a  family  and  the  approxi- 
mate numerical  equality  of  the  sexes  forbid  it  to  the  majority 
of  common  men.  The  numerical  equality  of  the  sexes  is  not 
exact  and  at  times  there  is  a  very  considerable  departure 
from  it.  Indeed,  when  men  lead  lives  of  great  exposure  and 
much  fighting  the  excess  of  females  as  well  as  the  need  of 
recruits  are  conditions  highly  favorable  to  polygyny;  while 
among  the  impoverished  but  peaceable  inhabitants  of  a  land 
that  no  one  cares  to  invade,  the  males  survive  while  infanticide 
and  harsh  treatment  diminish  the  number  of  females.  Polyg- 
yny is  not  due  to  indulgence  alone.  Women  are  desired  as 
workers.  Numerous  children  are  desired  to  bear  the  father's 
feud  and  make  him  formidable  and  in  general  to  recruit  the 
fighting  and  working  strength  of  the  group.  Further,  the 
more  wives  the  more  pretentious  the  social  standing  of  the 
establishment.  Even  the  women  may  welcome  additions  to 
their  husbands'  corps  of  wives  both  as  increasing  the  osten- 
tatiousness  of  the  household  and  as  dividing  the  labors  which 
all  the  wives  must  share.  A  woman  would  naturally  prefer 
to  be  her  husband's  only  wife,  but  once  given  plural  wives 
additions  to  their  number  have  compensations.  Finally,  what- 
ever the  accepted  leaders  of  society  do  and  approve  acquires 
the  sanction  of  'morality  and  religion.  Polygyny  is  character- 
istic of  the  patriarchal  pastoral  ancestors  of  the  Indo-Euro- 
pean peoples  whose  characteristics  in  this  respect  have  already 
been  mentioned.  -Those  who,  like  the  learned  Sir  Henry  Maine, 
describe  the  patriarchal  organization  as  the  original  form  of 
the  family  and  the  germ  of  the  state,  do  not  study  the  prac- 
tices of  peoples  more  primitive  than  the  Aryans  and  Semites. 
Polygyny  has  no  practical  justification  after  the  point  of 
diminishing  returns  has  been  reached.  It  abases  woman, 
tramples  upon  her  highest  interests,  and  tends  to  embitter  her 
life.  It  is  inconsistent  with  the  better  type  of  personal  rela- 


•536  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

tionship  between  the  members  of  the  family  which  are  essen- 
tial to  the  social  value  of  that  institution.  Turkish  gentlemen 
have  sometimes  drawn  envious  and  even  pitiable  comparisons 
between  their  own  state  and  that  of  the  heads  of  English  and 
American  family  life  which  they  have  observed. 

Mankind  has  experimented  on  a  great  scale  and  through 
long  periods  with  every  possible  form  of  domestic  organiza- 
tion, and  among  all  highly  advanced  peoples  monogamy  in- 
creasingly survives  and  prevails.  Its  predominance  has  been 
assisted  by  social  and  religious  sanctions  due  to  the  ap- 
proval of  the  influential,  but  this  predominance  has  been 
essentially  due  to  natural  selection  and  the  survival  of  the 
fittest.  Nothing  human  is  perfect,  no  domestic  arrangement 
makes  ideals  automatically  fulfill  themselves;  but  it  would 
seem  that  if  anything  can  be  said  to  have  been  demonstrated 
by  experience,  the  incomparable  superiority  of  monogamy  over 
other  forms  of  the  family  is  removed  beyond  argument.  •*" 

Slavery. — Slavery  has  been  practiced  by  all  peoples  who 
have  risen  sufficiently  high  in  the  scale  of  social  evolution. 
Like  the  fire  drill  or  the  hand  loom,  slavery  would  be  a  pitiful 
anachronism  in  a  society  of  the  highest  development,  but  like 
them  it  has  played  a  useful  part  in  social  evolution.  Wide 
prevalence  and  long  continuance  of  an  institution  are  impres- 
sive if  not  conclusive  evidence  of  its  usefulness.  The  disap- 
pearance among  the  most  advanced  peoples  of  an  institution 
which  has  prevailed  so  widely  and  so  long,  is  equal  evidence 
that  it  has  been  superseded  and  has  become  naturally  obsolete. 

It  was  a  decided  advantage  when  the  conquered  were 
enslaved  instead  of  being  devoured  or  tortured  to  death  or 
even  merely  slaughtered.  In  all  probability  slavery  began 
with  the  keeping  alive  of  women  of  the  conquered  as  spoils 
of  war.  The  enslaving  of  men  from  an  economic  motive  could 
not  take  place  on  any  considerable  scale  until  industry  was 
somewhat  advanced.  In  some  instances  conquered  men  were 
kept  alive  in  that  early  stage  of  development  when  industry, 
except  the  chase  and  certain  mechanic  arts,  was  still  almost 
exclusively  the  affair  of  women  and  a  part  of  the  degradation 
of  the  slave  was  that  he  was  set  at  woman's  work.  This 


EXAMPLES  OF  SOCIAL  EVOLUTION  537 

tended  to  lighten  the  labors  and  improve  the  status  of  woman 
among  the  conquerors.  Industrial  toil  from  having  been  the 
lot  of  women  became  the  lot  of  the  conquered,  and  slavery 
became  a  basis  of  social  castes.  When  later  conquests  were 
made  by  a  people  who  had  already  absorbed  and  enslaved  one 
conquered  people,  those  later  subjugated  were  almost  sure  to 
constitute  the  lowest  caste.1 

Slavery,  moreover,  served  the  inestimably  important  pur- 
pose of  disciplining  men  to  work.  Among  the  African  porters 
employed  by  the  explorer  Van  Gotzen  those  who  had  been 
slaves  expressed  scorn  for  the  comparatively  worthless  and 
untrained  sons  of  the  wild.  American  Indians  have  often  been 
regarded  as  unfit  for  agriculture,  and  they  are,  if  they  grow 
to  manhood  untrained  for  it,  as  unfit  as  the  son  of  a  millionaire, 
unless  some  mighty  motive  spurs  them  on.  A  failure  of  the 
potato  crop  is  said  to  have  been  regarded  as  a  blessing  by 
the  manufacturers  of  a  certain  civilized  region,  since  it  made 
it  possible  to  get  regular  labor  in  the  mills,  for  regular  labor 
is  ordinarily  not  to  be  had  when  the  requirements  of  the  exist- 
ing standard  of  living  can  be  met  without  such  labor.  An 

/efficient  class  of  laboring  men,  is,  not  without  reason,  regarded 

<  as  a  product  of  slavery. 

Slavery  enabled  the  conquerors  to  have  at  the  same  time 
a  considerably  high  standard  of  living  and  leisure.  This  con- 
dition was  essential  to  high  development  of  other  than  eco- 
nomic progress.  The  classic  civilization  of  Greece  rested  on 
the  backs  of  slaves  and  to  the  ancients  such  a  foundation 
for  civilization  seemed  indispensable,  and  probably  was  so. 

Slavery,  like  everything  else  that  becomes  imbedded  in 
custom,  so  long  as  it  is  thoroughly  customary  seems  thor- 
oughly natural,  and  the  idea  of  doing  away  with  it,  if  sug- 
gested, is  likely  to  seem  grotesque  and  absurd.  So  thoroughly 
accepted  is  slavery  in  Africa  that  Africans  have  long  con- 

1  It  is  not  necessary  to  hold,  as  some  appear  to  do,  that  conquest 
in  war  was  the  sole  origin  of  social  stratification.  Social  stratification 
came  sometimes  through  the  exaltation  of  the  rich  and  the  sinking  of 
the  impoverished  within  the  tribe  into  practical  or  even  actual  slavery 
chiefly  through  debt. 


538  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

ducted  extensive  enslaving  expeditions,  in  order  to  sell  their 
captives  to  the  Arabs  or  other  traders.  And  in  some  sections 
of  Africa  it  is  said  that  three  men  could  hardly  be  induced  to 
go  on  a  journey  together  for  fear  that  two  of  them  might  com- 
bine to  sell  the  third.  The  Africans  have  often  been  as  eager 
to  sell  slaves  as  the  traders  to  buy  them.  Adequate  valuation 
of  human  life  and  happiness  is  a  culture  product^  and  when 
that  valuation  is  low  slavery  is  perfectly  natural.  With  the 
cultural  advance  of  social  sentiments  slavery  passes  through 
all  degrees  of  diminishing  brutality  till  in  some  instances  it 
becomes  a  kindly  tutelage  and  finally  is  no  longer  possible. 

Slavery  wherever  established  has  a  remarkable  effect  on 
the  other  customs  of  society.  "When  adopted  into  the  folk- 
ways," says  Sumner,  "slavery  has  dominated  and  given  tone 
and  color  to  them  all.  ...  It  has  been  a  terrible  afrit,  a 
demon  which  promised  service  but  which  became  a  master." 

It  is  commonly  held  that  in  slavery  is  to  be  found  the 
origin  of  the  state,  that  the  state  had  its  rise  not  in  bodies 
of  freemen  uniting  for  self-government,  but  in  bodies  of  con- 
querors organizing  to  hold  the  governed  in  subjection.  There 
is  no  doubt  that  slavery  in  this  way  had  much  to  do  with  the 
development  of  strong  governments.  However,  this  aspect 
of  political  development  can  be  too  exclusively  emphasized. 

Origin  of  the  State. — Government  has  two  distinct  roots, 
one  in  foreign,  and  one  in  domestic  relations.1 

Effective  warfare  requires  organization,  whether  the  war- 
fare be  offensive  or  defensive  and  whether  the  vanquished 
are  enslaved  or  merely  slaughtered.  The  first  war  chiefs  are 
not  elected  or  appointed;  they  merely  lead.  The  man  who 
plans  a  raid  and  wins  the  cooperation  of  a  band  of  followers, 
or  the  man  who,  when  his  clan  is  attacked,  responds  to  the 
emergency  in  such  a  way  as  to  win  prominence  and  leader- 

1 1  Samuel  viii :  4  5.  "Then  all  the  elders  of  Israel  gathered  them- 
selves together,  and  came  to  Samuel  unto  Ramah,  and  said  unto 
him,  .  .  .  Now  make  us  a  king  to  judge  us  like  all  the  nations."  19. 
"And  they  said,  Nay;  but  we  will  have  a  king  over  us;  that  we  also 
may  be  like  all  the  nations;  and  that  our  king  may  judge  us,  and  go 
out  before  us,  and  fight  our  battles." 


EXAMPLES  OF  SOCIAL  EVOLUTION  539 

ship  is  for  the  time  being  a  de  facto  chieftain.  When  the 
fight  is  ovei>  such  a  man  retains  a  certain  glory,  but  has  no 
definite  authority.  His  chieftainship  is  temporary,  lasting 
only  as  long  as  the  emergency  that  evoked  it. 

Permanent  chieftaincy  involves  the  evolution  of  an  insti- 
tution, that  is,  of  ideas,  sentiments,  and  judgments  common 
to  the  members  of  the  society,  which  maintain  the  authority 
of  rulers  and  which  prescribe  the  selection  of  rulers  to  fill 
vacancies  as  they  occur.  The  king  of  Dahomey  does  not 
have  power  to  command  his  hordes  of  followers  by  mere  virtue 
of  any  personal  qualities  that  reside  in  him,  any  more  than  he 
has  .power  to  strike  off  the  heads  of  any  who  disobey  by 
virtue  of  the  mere  strength  of  his  arm.  No  arm  is  strong 
enough  to  have  such  power  for  an  hour  over  his  thousands 
of  followers,  any  of  whom  would  enter  his  presence  groveling 
on  all  fours  with  face  to  the  ground.  The  development  of 
such  folk-ways  and  institutions  involves:  (i)  the  temporary 
supremacy  over  a  few  immediate  followers  due  to  response 
to  emergency;  (2)  the  more  lasting  prestige  engendered  by 
such  prowess;  (3)  a  sense  of  the  necessity  of  military  success 
as  a  matter  of  group  policy;  (4)  the  instinct  of  dominance 
expressed  in  conduct  that  suggests  and  evokes  subservience; 
(5)  the  habit  and  custom  of  obedience;  (6)  partisanship  and 
the  prestige  of  desire  *  glorifying  leaders ;  (7)  mob  reduplica- 
tion of  these  sentiments  in  times  of  pageant  and  triumph;  (8) 
specific  inventions,  due  to  incident  and  accident  playing  upon 
predispositions  and  ingenuity,  which  define  the  conduct  proper 
to  a  king  and  the  conduct  proper  in  approaching  him;  (9) 
rational  approval  of  the  necessity  of  established  group  organi- 
zation. All  these  together  produce  a  constitution,  unwritten 
of  course,  but  imbedded  in  the  minds  of  the  participants  in  the 
social  process. 

The  rapidity  of  political  evolution  on  the  warlike  side, 
depends  upon  the  frequency  of  warfare;  and  is  especially 
promoted  when  a  conquering  group  has  the  necessity  of  hold- 
ing under  continuous  repression  subjugated  and  tribute-paying 
or  regularly  enslaved  peoples. 

Compare  page  331, 


540  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

The  second  strand  in  the  evolution  of  government  starts, 
not  with  the  temporary  chieftainship  of  bold  fighters,  but 
with  the  head  men  or  elders  who  direct  the  primitive  com- 
munism of  savage  hordes.  The  enforcement  of  group  cus- 
toms and  taboos  regulating  food  distribution  and  other  mat- 
ters, the  carrying  out  of  ceremonies,  particularly  the  cere- 
monies of  initiation,  which  with  a  little  stretch  of  fancy  may 
be  regarded  as  the  germ  of  a  public  school  system,1  the 
organization  of  cooperative  hunts  and  game  round-ups,  the 
direction  of  the  group  wanderings,  later  the  distribution  of 
plots  of  ground,  and  the  settling  of  disputes  and  quarrels,  all 
these  functions  of  the  elders  illustrate  the  fact  that  the  early 
folk-ways  are  regulative  of  the  internal  affairs  of  the  clan  as 
well  as  of  inter-clan  hostilities. 

The  economic  and  inner  social  life  of  the  group  seems  to 
have  played  the  predominant  role  in  the  governmental  evolu- 
tion of  some  peoples,  and  the  subordinate  importance  assigned 
to  it  in  the  usual  accounts  of  the  evolution  of  the  state  may 
be  entirely  due  to  the  romantic  interest  of  warfare  which 
has  held  the  attention  and  to  the  inadequate  attention  paid  to 
the  facts  of  peaceful  life  in  savage  and  barbarous  communi- 
ties. Many  facts  could  be  adduced  in  support  of  the  proposi- 
tion that  the  predominance  of  militarism  increases  as  we  ad- 
vance from  the  more  primitive  social  forms  to  barbarism 
and  early  civilization,  and  tends  relatively  to  decline  as  we 
approach  the  culture  period.  Yet  even  among  some  of  the 
pastoral  barbarians,  a  class  especially  prone  to  war  and 
depredation,  the  regulation  of  economic,  domestic,  ceremonial 2 

1  Compare  Arthur  J.  Todd :  The  Primitive  Family  as  an  Educa- 
tional Agency.  Putnam,  1913,  chaps.  6  and  7. 

*  Ceremony  includes  the  beginnings  of  all  the  arts,  notably  the 
drama.  It  plays  a  great  role  in  the  interest,  development,  and  happi- 
ness of  «avage  and  barbarous  peoples.  Ceremony  itself  is  an  agency 
of  government  of  very  great  importance  among  savage  and  bar- 
barous peoples,  and  is  by  no  means  insignificant  in  this  respect 
even  among  us.  Compare  page  679.  In  an  ethnographic  collec- 
tion everyone  can  understand  the  bows  and  clubs  but  not  the 
masks  and  belts  and  tom-t9ms  and  rattles  and  magic  bundles  and  sand 
pictures,  ^  h**^  .NWfcn*  nMyfJ^fr  JJ&* 


EXAMPLES  OF  SOCIAL  EVOLUTION  541 

and  other  intrasocietal  matters  could  probably  be  shown  to 
have  as  great  a  part  in  governmental  evolution  as  war  and 
slavery.1  It  might  even  be  shown  that  there  are  two  types 
of  feudalism :  that  which  results  from  the  distribution  of 
conquered  lands  among  the  leaders  of  the  conquerors  with 
which  Norman  England  has  familiarized  us,  and  that  which 
gradually  arises  as  the  power  of  head  men  to  regulate  the 
distribution  of  the  right  to  till  patches  of  ground,  which 
ground  at  first  is  regarded  as  common  property,  changes  at 
length  into  practical  ownership  of  the  land  by  the  descendants 
of  these  head  men. 

The  separation  of  church  and  state  is  a  very  modern 
differentiation.  The  development  of  religious  and  political 
government  in  their  early  stages  are  thoroughly  entangled 
and  contribute  essentially  to'  each  other.  Divine  rulers  tend 
to  be  a  magnified  reflection  of  earthly  rulers:  despots  if  the 
earthly  rulers  are  such,  or  patriarchs  where  earthly  rulers 
are  of  that  character.  And  earthly  rulers  derive  a  great  part  of 
their  power  from  the  supposed  backing  of  invisible  potentates ; 
among  whom  mysteriously  magnified  spirits  of  the  departed 
ancestors  from  whom  the  earthly  rulers  have  descended  are 
often  the  most  imposing  figures. 

Morality.— i .  Conscience  codes  are  exceedingly  various. 
Comparative  study  of  the  life  of  different  societies  reveals 
the  fact  that  man  is  not  born  with  a  table  of  commandments 
"etched  on  the  soul."  On  the  contrary  "the  mores  can  make 
anything  seem  right."  Cannibalism  to  one  whose  group  ap- 
proves it  may  be  as  proper  as  "a  dinner  of  herbs" ;  it  may 
even  be  a  religious  rite,  or  a  mark  of  honor  to  a  parent  whose 
flesh  is  consumed.  Murder  of  choice  youths  may  be  com- 
mitted as  a  devout  sacrifice  to  the  gods,  and  slaying  the  aged 
as  an  office  of  affection.  Though  "love  your  enemies"  may 
be  the  nobler  injunction,  yet  the  solemn  duty  of  vengeance 
has  been  commanded  by  the  consciences  of  most  men.  No 
people  live  without  a  code  for  the  regulation  of  relations 

1  For  an  accessible  example  the  book  of  Deuteronomy  will  serve, 
even  though  it  describes  the  life  of  a  nomadic  pastoral  people  at  the 
very  time  when  they  are  engaged  in  a  great  invasion. 


542  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

between  the  sexes,  yet  while  punishing  with  utmost  severity 
acts  which  they  disapprove  they  approve  polygamy,  con- 
cubinage, wife-lending,  and  ceremonial  license.  Our  own 
ethics  of  property  rights  which  allow  Dives  to  roll  in  wealth 
with  an  unruffled  conscience,  knowing  that  three  blocks  away 
Lazarus  and  his  offspring  exist  in  squalor  and  blight,  are 
in  the  eyes  of  some  savages  as  incomprehensible  a  violation 
of  morality,  as  the  practices  of  savages  are  to  us. 

2.  How  far  conscience  codes  are  from  being  a  universal 
metaphysical  imperative  is  shown  by  another  set  of  facts  to 
which   the   term  " ethical  dualism?'   has  been   applied.   .  The 
consciences  of  savages,  barbarians,   and  in  some  degree  of 
all  but  the  most  ethically  advanced  persons,   prescribe   one 
code  of  conduct  towards  fellow  clansmen  or  members  of  any 
we-group  to  which  the  actor  belongs,  and  prescribes  another 
code  of  conduct  or  allows  immunity  from  ethical  require- 
ments toward  outsiders.    This  results  from  two  causes:    (a) 
sympathy  partly,  and  partisanship  and  justice  wholly,  depend 
upon  "consciousness  of  kind,"  upon  admission  of  the  persons 
by  whom  benevolent  propensities  are  evoked   into  the  we- 
thought.     The  white  settler  does  not   fully  thus  admit  the 
American  Indian,  the  Australian  Blackfellow,  or  the  South 
African   Bushman.     He   can  shoot  them  like  vermin.     The 
Arab  does  not  so  admit  the  Zulu,  the  Zulu  does  not  so  admit 
the  Hottentot,  the   Greek  did  not  so  admit  the  Barbarian, 
the  Hebrew  did  not   so  admit  the   Samaritan.     The   white 
native  American  does  not  always  so  admit  the  negro,  the 
"wop"  or  the  "hunkie,"  and  savage  and  barbarous  peoples 
as  a  rule  have  a  narrow  and  definitely  limited  we-thought. 
(b)  The  ethical  dualism  so  characteristic  of  the  less  developed 
peoples  is  due  also  to  the  fact  that  the  conscience  code,  like 
language,  is  a  group  product  and  a  group  possession.     It  is 
not  the  property  of  the  individual  as  an  individual  or  of  the 
whole  human  race  as  a  race.    It  prescribes  the  conduct  which 
a  given  society  demands  from  its  members  primarily  in  the 
interest  of  that  particular  society. 

3.  Nevertheless  predispositions  common  to  humanity  lay 
the  foundation  for  the  evolution  of  consciences.    Ethical  valu- 


EXAMPLES  OF  SOCIAL  EVOLUTION    .          543 

ations  take  their  rise  in  discriminations  between  pleasure  and 
pain,  not  merely  sensory  pleasure  and  pain,  but  all  the  satis- 
fying and  distressing  qualities  of  consciousness,  and  in  prac- 
tical reason  which  recognizes  causal  relations  between  con- 
duct and  its  consequences,  and  so  identifies  the  conduct  that 
has  hurt  us  or  benefited  us,  or  that  may  either  hurt  or  benefit 
us.  Altruism  extends  these  rational  judgments  to  conduct, 
that  will  affect  others  in  whom  we  are  interested,  our  chil- 
dren, our  family,  our  tribe,  our  nation,  and  finally  humanity. 
Reason  both  identifies  specific  forms  of  conduct,  like  obedience 
to  parents,  as  good,  and  others,  like  poisoning  arrows  or 
wife-beating,  as  bad,  and  also  generalizes  so  as  to  recognize 
as  good  or  bad,  abstract  qualities  such  as  truthfulness,  chas- 
tity, courage,  benevolence,  and  their  opposites.  Esthetic 
discrimination  reacts  strongly  upon  ideas  and  ideals  of  con- 
duct that  have  been  defined  by  practical  reason,  and  elevates 
the  judgments  of  reason  into  enthusiasms  and  detestations. 
Thus  wrong  conduct  becomes  not  only  inexpedient  but  dis- 
gusting. It  is  this  esthetic  emotion  which  gives  to  ethical 
valuations  a  quality  distinct  from  mere  "counsels  of  pru-' 
dence."  Finally,  anger  is  ready  to  be  aroused  by  whatever 
thwarts  a  natural  impulse,  and  the  thwarting  of  the  parental 
and  altruistic  impulse  is  no  exception.  Accordingly  conduct 
that  arouses  moral  disapproval  is  felt  to  be  not  only  hideous 
but  also  an  object  of  indignation. 

Every  capacity  for  pleasure  or  pain  is  an  inborn  bio- 
logical tendency  which  we  must  regard  as  a  part  of  man's 
adaptation  for  a  survival.  This  seems  obvious  enough  in 
connection  with  the  pleasures  and  pains  that  are  connected 
with  the  elementary  physical  instincts.  On  the  theory  of 
evolution  it  would  seem  that  it  must  be  equally  true  of 
esthetic  discrimination,  as  an  inherent  capacity  qf  the  species, 
including  that  esthetic  discrimination  which  applies  to  quali- 
ties of  conduct.  It  would  seem  that  this  moral  esthetic 
discrimination,  as  well  as  susceptibility  to  suggestion,  imita- 
tion and  radiation,  desire  for  approval,  and  altruism,  are  parts 
of  man's  adaptation  to  survival,  after  survival  has  come  to 
depend  upon  cooperation. 


544  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

;But  here  we  must  be  careful  not  to  go  too  far.  Evi- 
dently inborn  esthetic  discrimination  has  not  gone  so  far 
as  to  prevent  the  amazing  variety  in  conscience  codes  that 
has  been  noted.  Just  as  esthetic  taste  in  general  is  based 
upon  inborn  adaptations,  yet  does  not  determine  for  us 
whether  black  skins  or  white,  the  fashions  of  1861  or  of 
1915,  a  confused  din  of  clash,  blare  and  tom-tom  beat  or 
a  symphony  shall  seem  more  beautiful,  so  matters  of  moral 
approval  and  disgust  are  left  by  nature  vastly  uncertain. 
Nature  makes  us  love  the  familiar  but  she  also  makes  us 
love  the  novel,  she  makes  us  love  harmony  but  she  also 
makes  us  love  contrast,  and  she  does  not  determine  what 
shall  be  familiar  or  what  shall  seem  novel  to  us,  nor  in  what 
we  shall  perceive  harmony.  Likewise  our  moral  approvals 
and  disapprovals  are  left  by  nature  full  of  contradictions 
and  uncertainties-.  Probably  no  man  needs  to  give  himself 
a  reason  why  he  should  see  beauty  in  gratitude,  generosity, 
fidelity,  and  courage,  or  why  he  should  see  ugliness  in  ingrati- 
tude, meanness,  and  treachery.  But  delight  in  courage  and 
prowess  and  fidelity  to  a  few  may  hide  the  presence  of 
every  hideous  vice,  so  that  treachery  and  cruelty  are  prac- 
iticed  with  innocent  glee.  Biological  evolution  has  gone  only 
|  part  way  towards  furnishing  us  with  a  conscience.  More- 
over, there  seems  to  be  little  or  no  ground  for  hope  that  the 
inborn  esthetic  equipment  for  moral  discrimination  will  ever 
become  more  complete,  for  we  cannot  see  any  effective  natural 
selection  weeding  out  those  who  are  in  this  respect  less  fit. 
But  the  progress  of  rational  moral  judgments  by  social  evolu- 
tion gives  a  constantly  increasing  supplement  to  that  which 
biological  evolution  has  done  in  this  direction.;  it  corroborates 
the  discriminations  of  esthetic  sense,  and  it  also  completes 
them  by  bringing  the  various  activities  of  man  clearly  within 
the  compass  of  these  esthetic  discriminations.  This  combina- 
tion of  reason  and  esthetic  sensibility  in  evaluating  forms 
and  qualities  of  human  conduct  is  what  we  denominate  the 
moral  sentiments, 

All  that  we  have  noted,  however,  does  not  complete  the 
role  of  man's  inborn  endowment  in  the  development  of  con- 


EXAMPLES  OF  SOCIAL  EVOLUTION  545 

science.  The  judgments  which  form  the  substructure  of  the 
moral  sentiments  are  communicated  and  built  up  as  social 
possessions  by  social  suggestion;  the  conduct  required  by 
the  moral  sentiments  is  disseminated  by  imitation,  and  above 
all,  those  definite  moral  sentiments  which  a  society  has  evolved 
are  spread  abroad  and  imparted  to  each  rising  generation 
by  social  radiation.  Thus  the  child  that  is  born  mto  a  group 
in  which  certain  moral  sentiments  already  prevail  catches 
them,  and  they  become  the  expression  of  his  own  propensi- 
ties, although  he  would  never  have  originated  them.1  More- 
over, the  inborn  desire  for  social  approval  molds  his  habits, 
and  above  all  this,  natural  desire  molds  his  self-thought,  his 
conscious  and  subconscious  aims,  in  conformity  with  the 
ethical  standards  of  his  group.  *~~ 

Thus  we  see  that  pleasure-pain,  reason,  altruism,  esthetic! 
discrimination,  susceptibility  to  suggestion,  imitation  and  radia- 
tion and  desire  for  approval  —  all  play  a  part  in  the  develop- 
ment .of  conscience.  And  conscience,  instead  of  being  any 
single  faculty,  may  be  far  more  truly  regarded  as  the  net  result 
of  the  individual  and  social  reactions  of  all  man's  faculties 
upon  the  problem  of  conduct. 

4.  The  gradual  perception  by  society  of  what  it  is  that 
harms  and  what  .promotes  its  interests,  arises  in  two  ways. 
First,  the  hard  lessons  of  age-long  experience  rub  into  the 
folk-sense_  a  perception  of  what  hurts  and  what  helps.  Sec- 
ond, more  adequate  judgments  are  derived  from  the  insight 
of  the  elite,  the  individuals  who  are  keen  enough  to  identify 
the  causes  of  good  and  evil,  and  in  whom  the  type  of  emo- 
tional response  that  enters  into  moral  sentiments  is  suf- 
ficiently developed  to  react  to  the  conduct  which  they  thus 
identify  with  indignation  and  detestation  or  with  enthusiasm. 

jn  regard'  to  ethical  progress,  especially  that  which  takes 
place  in  the  folk-sense,  the  following-  facts  are  fn  k^-nofM' 
(a)  Nice  judgments  as  to  the  ultimate  consequences  of  a 
given  form  of  conduct  are  not  likely  to  be  formed  by  one 
who  is  urged  toward  that  conduct  by  a  prospect  of  some 
immediate  gain  or  by  the  clamor  of  some  excited  propensity. 

1  Compare  page  226  and  page  318. 


*  (f. 


546  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

Bad  conduct  is  not  in  the  least  likely  to  be  first  identified 
as  such  by  one  who  is  engaged  in  it.  A  child  does  innocently 
what  he  will  later  learn  to  condemn ;  a  savage  does  innocently 
what  a  more  evolved  society  abhors;  even  in  an  advanced 
society  new  sins,  not  yet  branded  by  social  sentiment,  may 
be  innocently  committed.  In  a  rapidly  evolving  society  the 
opportunity  for  new  sins,  of  wholesale  destructiveness,  may 
arise  before  there  is  any  conscience  against  them.  Of  this 
our  "spoils  system,"  and  the  abuses  of  "high  finance"  are 
examples.1  Indeed  these  acts  are  not  sins  until  they  are  seen 
to  be  such.  For  a  time  conscientious  Sunday-school  teachers 
may  commit  such  acts  and  the  general  public  may  admire 
them;  later  the  public  judges  them  mischievous  but  feels 
little  sentiment  of  revulsion  against  them,  but  ultimately  it 
may  draw  away  from  them  as  by  pure  instinct. 

(b)  Self-interest    may    contribute    to    ethical    progress. 
If   the    tempted    are   in    no    favorable   position    to   discover 
the    evil    of    their    way,    that    discovery    must    usually    be 
made  by   the   victim   or   by  the  bystanders.     And   the   by- 
standers are  seldom  wholly  disinterested,  for  a  mode  of  con- 
duct which  injures  one,  if  it  is  allowed  to  go  uncondemned 
and  unsuppressed,  is  likely  sooner  or  later  to  injure  the  by 
stander,  and  is  sure  to  injure  the  group  with  the  interests 
of  which  every  member  of  the  group  is  concerned.     It  makes, 
very  little   difference    whether   the   harmfulness   of   conduct 
is  proclaimed  by  a  disinterested  prophet  or  by  the  victims 
or   by  the   prudential   self-interest   of  bystanders,   provided 
that  its  harmfulness  is  an  actual  lesson  of  experience,  and 
provided  that  by  one  means  or  another  a  perception  of  its 
harmfulness  gets  into  the  folk-sense. 

(c)  The  tendency  to  "put  the  best  foot  forward,"  to  con- 
ceal the  worst  promptings,  to  utter  the  sentiments  which  the 
group    approves,    makes    social    intercourse    less    mean    than 
secret  musings.2     Besides,  although  men  often  conceal  their 

1  E.  A.  Ross :     Sin  and  Society.    Macmillan,  1907. 

1  Ross :  Social  Control,  p.  342  seq.  "The  conscience  of  the  social 
group,  as  soon  as  it  appears,  is  several  points  better  than  the  private 
conscience,  just  because  it  is  social."  p.  347. 


EXAMPLES  OF  SOCIAL  EVOLUTION  547 

best  sentiments  from  the  crowd,  yet  there  is  also  a  tendency 
to  utter  and  advocate  the  sentiments  which  they  wish  others 
to  feel,  which  they  think  tend  to  make  society  good  to  live 
in,  and  which  they  regard  as  premotive  of  their  own  weir 
fare  and  that  of  those  for  whom  they  care.  Especially, 
parents  speaking  to  children,  teachers  to  pupils,  in  general 
those  who  are  set  in  places  of  authority,  and  indeed  most 
others  who  have  occasion  to  address  the  public 1  utter  the 
sentiments  which  they  believe  that  the  group  approves  and 
which  they  think  it  would  be  well  for  the  group  to  feel.  The 
members  of  society  are  in  an  unplanned  natural  conspiracy 
to  keep  each  other  straight.  The  very  fact  that  the  senti- 
ments uttered  and  advocated  are  somewhat  'better  than  those 
acted  upon,  and  somewhat  stronger  than  those  felt,  keeps 
boosting  the  mores.  This  would  not  be  true  if  it  went  so 
far  as  visible  or  conscious  hypocrisy.  If  it  does  not  go  so 
far  as  that,  it  has  the  power  of  auto-suggestion  and  so  reacts 
strongly  upon  the  speakers.  The  fact  of  intercourse  tends 
to  repress  at  the  fountainhead  the  meaner  impulses,  to  elicit 
the  social  promptings,  and  to  create  a  social  atmosphere  that 
is  better  than  the  individuals  would  be  by  themselves  and 
even  better  than  they  yet  are. 

(d)  Since  those  who  have  social  prestige  and  caste 
superiority  are  likely  to  feel  themselves  entitled  to  the  advan- 
tages which  they  enjoy  and  to  invest  the  .existing  social 
order  with  a  kind  of  sanctity,  and  since  men  are  far  less 
likely  to  discover  their  own  duties  and  sins  than  those  of 
other  people,  the  rulers  and  teachers  of  the  people  are  likely, 
with  or  without  conscious  unfairness,  to  shape  the  mores 
in  their  own  interest.  The  members  of  an  aristocracy  radiate 
as  proper  attributes  of  the  lower  classes  commendation  for 
obedience,  respect  to  superiors,  loyalty,  industry,  and  fru- 
gality, which  they  do  not  practice.2 

Similarly  every  distinct  and  intercommunicating  class, 
as  the  military,  the  firemen,  the  police,  the  labor  unions, 

1  Even  high  school  orators  at  graduation  time. 
1  Thus  the  food  and  sex  taboos  of  savages  allow  special  privileges 
to  the  elders. 


548  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

"society,"  and  even  college  students,  tends  to  develop  its 
own  adaptations  in  the  conscience  code.  Prevalent  senti- 
ments in  such  a  group  may  support  its  members  in  those 
violations  of  the  general  code  to  which  they  are  particularly 
tempted,  such  as  vice  among  "single  men  in  barracks,"  graft- 
ing among  the  police,  and  cribbing  among  college  students. 

On  the  other  hand  these  sub-group  adaptations  of  the 
conscience  code  are  likely  to  lay  certain  distinct  exactions 
upon  the  members  of  the  group  in  which  they  must  excel 
the  average  outsider.  One  who  cannot  face  death  without 
flinching  is  "no  soldier."  The  British  civil-service  official 
who  falls  below  an  exacting  standard  of  punctilious  efficiency 
is  "a  disgrace  to  the  service."  And  the  aristocracy,  instead 
of  warping  the  mores  in  their  own  interest  as  far  as  they 
might  have  done,  develop  the  principle  of  noblesse  oblige. 
This  brings  us  back  to  the  fact  that  altruism  which  prizes 
the  group  welfare ;  moral  estheticism  or  moral  idealism  which 
makes  sin,  when  once  clearly  identified,  hideous  and 
despicable,  and  duty  beautiful ;  and  logical  consistency  which 
relentlessly  turns  in  upon  the  actor  the  judgments  which  he 
has  passed  upon  others  and  thereby  converts  his  idealism  into 
self-respect  or  shame,  are  inborn  traits  of  man. 

(e)  While  the  age-long  lessons  of  experience,  interpret- 
ing through  the  folk-sense  the  method  of  weal  and  woe, 
slowly  contribute  progressive  variations  toward  a  knowledge 
of  the  moral  law,  mutations  in  the  conscience  code  are  origi- 
nated by  the  elite.  Science,  with  its  statistics  of  death  rates 
and  speculative  losses  and  standards  of  living,  helps  to  dis- 
close the  remote  and  diffused  consequences  of  conduct.  And 
the  moral  genius  employs  his  powers  in  reasoning,  not  upon 
a  method  by  which  he  may  turn  stones  to  gold  or  call  the 
kingdoms  of  the  world  his  own,  but  upon  the  causes  that 
prevent  and  the  causes  that  would  promote  the  fulfillment 
of  the  good  possibilities  of  mankind.  The  calculus  of  methods 
of  welfare  which  one  may  help  to  force  upon  others  but 
avoid  himself,  does  not  lead  to  the  greatest  moral  advances. 
The  prophets  have  not  flinched  from  stoning  or  the  stake 
or  the  cross,  but  have  given  guarantee  of  the  social  character 


EXAMPLES  OF  SOCIAL  EVOLUTION  549 

of  the  aims  they  sought  by  renouncing  common  ambitions 
and  paying  the  price  of  living  by  a  standard  for  which  the 
world  was  not  ready.  No  great  people  and  no  great  age 
has  lacked  such  spirits. 

(f)  The  conscious  codes  of   different  peoples  vary  for 
the  same  reasons  that  have  caused  their  modes  of  agricul- 
ture to  vary.     The  chief  of  these  reasons  is  that  they  have 
progressed  in  various  degrees  toward   a   knowledge  of  the 
requirements  of  the  laws  of  nature.    Like  agriculture,  moral- 
ity is  a  practical  art,  the  supreme  and  inclusive  practical  art 
of  the  cooperative  promotion  of  the  values  of  human  life. 
Moral   law   is   not,   as   Kant  and   other  moral   philosophers 
have  imagined,  a  metaphysical  absolute  apart  from  the  laws 
of   nature.     Yet,   in   spite   of   the   variability  of   conscience 
codes  the  moral  law  is  as  absolute  as  the  laws  of  nature,  for 
it  is  the  laws  of  nature,  the  laws  of  cause  and  effect,  as  they 
operate  in  the  production  of  results  in  human  experience. 

Moral  invention  or  discovery  proceeds  by  the  insight  of 
the  elite  and  by  the  experience  of  the  many  in  all  the  ways 
which  have  just  been  indicated.  And  natural  selection  among 
moral  sentiments  proceeds  actively  in  all.  of  the  five  ways 
mentioned  under  the  discussion  of  natural  selection  in  the 
theory  of  social  evolution.1  Especially  is  it  to  be  noted  that 
although  they  are  sentiments,  ethical  elements  are  subject 
to  the  test  of  practical  reason,  because  they  are  evoked  by 
judgments  concerning  the  consequences  of  conduct. 

(g)  While  progress  in  discovering  the  content  of  moral 
law  depends  upon  reason  interpreting  the  causation  of  experi- 
ence,  these   discoveries    are   distinguished   by  the   fact   that 
they  awaken  their  characteristic  response  of  sentiment;  and 
the  sentiments  of  moral  repugnance  or  approval  are  more 
readily  disseminated  in  society  than  the  logical  grounds  upon 
which   these   moral  discriminations   rest.     The   moral   senti- 
ments of  parents  and  teachers  are  radiated  to  the  young, 
and   those   of  the  elite   are   radiated  to  the  masses  in  the 
absence    of    any    adequate    perception     of    the    remote    and 
diffused  consequences  which  justify  the  condemnations  and 

1  Compare  page  485. 


550 

demands  of  virtue.  The  child  whose  mother  shakes  her  headl 
and  looks  aghast  and  says,  "That  isn't  pretty,"  knows  no 
reason  why  "that  isn't  pretty,"  but  feels  it  and  condemns 
the  act  in  another  child.  Unchastity  is  abhorred  without 
a  thought  of  the  horrors  of  venereal  disease  and  blighted 
offspring  or  of  the  still  deeper  causes  for  its  disapproval  in 
the  fact  that  the  home,  about  which  the  character  and  happi- 
ness of  mankind  center,  is  founded  upon  the  virtue  of  un- 
questionable chastity.  And  falsehood  is  despised  without 
reckoning  that  by  falsehood  the  individual  imperils  his  power 
to  command  belief  and  undermines  the  faith  of  man  in  man 
which  is  the  foundation  upon  the  solidity  of  which  depends 
the  height  to  which  the  social  structure  can  be  reared.  The 
ordinary  mind  cannot  be  expected  to  comprehend  the  weight 
of  the  reasons  for  the  requirements  which  the  insight  of  the 
elite  and  the  experience  of  the  race  have  bound  upon  the 
consciences  of  man.  Least  of  all  can  the  tempted  man  be 
expected  justly  to  balance  those  remote  considerations  against 
the  urgency  of  his  impulse.  And  the  value  of  morality  is 
that  it  stands  firm  at  the  very  times  when  the  attention  is 
driven  away  from  remote  considerations  and  concentrated 
upon  hot  allurements,  and  when  rational  balancing  of  con- 
sequences is  impossible,  but  inveterate  sentiment  still  utters 
its  deterring  or  commanding  voice.  The  strength  of  moral 
sentiment  is  the  measure  of  the  degree  in  which  the  net 
result  of  the  experience  of  the  race  and  the  insight  of  the 
elite  is  precipitated  in  the  conduct  of  the  individual.  And 
so  it  is  the  measure  of  the  social  conservation  and  progressive 
realization  of  human  interests. 


CHAPTER  XXX 
EXAMPLES   OF   SOCIAL   EVOLUTION    (Continued) 

The  Evolution  of  Religion. — It  is  often  said  that  no  people 
entirely  destitute  of  religion  has  ever  been  discovered.  And 
it  is  true  that  no  people,  whose  thoughts  and  practices  we 
have  learned  to  understand  adequately,  have  been  without 
social  activities  to  which  the  name  religion  could  be  applied, 
provided  that  name  be  given  a  sufficiently  wide  definition. 

The  word  "religion"  has  received  many  definitions.  His- 
torically the  most  characteristic  substance  of  religion  has 
been  beliefs  concerning  relations  ^rith  unseen  powers  or 
beings  whether  here  or  hereafter  and  the  emotions  and  prac- 
tices elicited  by  those  beliefs.  Religion  might  be  defined 
as  those  ideas,  contemplation  of  which  is  found  in  the  experi- 
ence of  any  individual  or  any  people  to  raise  life  to  the 
highest  level,  together  with  the  emotions  and  practices 
prompted  by  the  contemplation  of  those  ideas.  The  latter 
definition,  however,  would  express  rather  an  ideal  of  the 
meaning  which  the  word  religion  may  sometime  convey  than 
a  description  of  all  the  religions  that  have  existed  or  that 
still  exist;  for  religions  have  contained  much  that  debased 
life,  and  omitted  many  of  the  most  ennobling  elements  in 
the  life  of  the  peoples  by  whom  they  were  believed. 

Religion,  far  from  being  a  matter  of  indifference  to  the 
"savage,"  in  reality  "absorbs  nearly  the  whole  of  life."  "His 
daily  actions  are  governed  by  ceremonial  laws  of  the  severest, 
often  of  the  most  irksome  and  painful  character." 

The  Dyaks  of  Borneo  "when  they  lay  out  their  fields, 
gather  the  harvest,  go  hunting  or  fishing,  contract  a  mar- 
riage, start  on  a  warlike  expedition,  propose  a  commercial 
journey,  or  anything  of  importance  always  consult  the  gods, 
offer  sacrifices,  celebrate  feasts,  study  the  omens,  obtain 


552  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

talismans,  and  so  on,  often  thus  losing  the  best  opportunity 
for  the  business  itself."  1  "It  was  a  severe  shock  to  the  Pueblo 
Indians  to  see  the  white  settlers  plant  corn  without  any 
religious  ceremony,  and  a  much  greater  one  to  see  that  the 
corn  grew,  flourished,  and  bore  abundant  crops."  Captain 
Clark,  an  officer  of  our  army  with  the  widest  experience  of 
Indian  life,  is  thus  quoted:  "It  seems  a  startling  assertion, 
but  it  is  I  think  true  that  there  are  no  people  who  pray  more 
than  the  Indians.  Both  superstition  and  custom  keep  always 
in  their  minds  the  necessity  for  placating  the  anger  of  the 
invisible  and  omnipotent  power,  and  for  supplicating  the  active 
exercise  of  his  faculties  in  their  behalf."  And  Brinton  says 
of  primitive  people  that  the  injunction  to  "pray  always"  is 
nowhere  else  so  nearly  carried  out. 

The  beliefs  and  practices  commonly  spoken  of  as  religion 
grow  from  four  roots,  each  of  which  requires  our  attention. 

I.  Magic. — Magic  may  or  may  not  contain  any  idea  of 
relationship  with  unseen  persons. 

(a)  Magic  which  does  not  depend  upon  ideas  of  relation- 
ship with  unseen  beings  probably  is  not  to  be  regarded  as 
a  part  of  religion,  but  it  is  too  important  and  too  closely 
related  to  religious  notions  to  be  omitted  from  our  discus- 
sion. This  magic  which  depends  upon  no  ideas  of  unseen 
persons  is  the  predecessor  of  applied  natural  science.  Primi- 
tive man,  not  knowing  what  really  causes  the  effects  that 
interest  him,  that  harm  or  benefit  him,  guesses  what  might 
have  caused  the  evil  or  the  good  he  has  experienced  and 
what  may  cause  the  good  of  evil  that  he  anticipates  with  hope 
or  dread  and  like  the  man  of  science  he  acts  upon  his  hypoth- 
esis. In  the  development  of  magic  there  are  certain  steps 
which  must  be  enumerated  at  the  outset,  since  they  are  to 
be  seen  in  the  development  both  of  impersonal  and  of  personal 
or  religious  magic : 

i.  Desire  suggests  ideas.  The  desires  are  at  first  pre- 
dominantly practical.  Man  wants  to  do  something  that  will 
secure  good  or  avert  harm.  His  child  is  sick  and  he  wants 

*D.  G.  Brinton:     Religipns  pf  Primitive  Peoples.     Putnam,  1897, 


EXAMPLES  OF  SOCIAL  EVOLUTION  553 

to  do  something  to  cause  recovery.  He  is  going  fishing  and 
he  wants  to  insure  a  catch.  Because  ignorant  of  what  does 
affect  the  result  he  is  free  to  imagine  that  anything  may 
affect  it,  he  feels  that  he  must  do  something  and  so  he  thinks 
of  something  to  do.  The  brighter,  more  imaginative  he  is 
the  more  he  thinks  of  what  may  bring  either  good  or  harm. 

2.  Whatever  arrests  his  attention  in  connection  with  the 
result,  so  far  as  he  knows,  may  cause  it:  especially  do  sug- 
gestive analogies  rivet  attention  and  hint  at  causal  relation; 
thus  the  father  during  the  couvade  must  not  eat  what  would 
disagree  with  the  new-born  babe,  the  pregnant  woman  must 
not  eat  any  animal  that  was  killed  by  a  wound  in  the  entrails ; 
to  eat  the  heart  of  a  lion  will  make  one  brave,  and  to  cause 
sand  to  patter  on  the  hut  is  part  of  the  ceremony  of  making 
rain. 

3.  In  order  to  be  believed  an  idea  has  only  to  be  clear, 
of  practical  interest  and  free  from  inconsistency  with  previ- 
ous knowledge  or  belief.     The  less  one  knows  the  less  there 
is  to  contradict  whatever  ideas  may  occur  to  him  so  that  to 
one  who  lacks  established  ideas  by  which  to  test  new  notions 
almost  any  fancy  may  be  true. 

4.  Once  the  idea  occurs  to  the  mind  that  a  given  act  or 
thing  is  favorable  or  unfavorable  to  a  keenly  desired  result, 
no  chances  are  taken,  the  lucky  thing  or  act  is  not  omitted 
and  the  unlucky  one  is  avoided.    This  tendency  we  still  wit- 
ness in  the  reluctance  of  many  to  sit  among  thirteen  at  the 
table. 

5.  To  act  upon  an  idea  strengthens  it  in  the  mind  of 
the  actor  and  also   suggests   it   to  others.     When  the  idea 
that  this  or  that  will  bring  either  good  or  evil  is  suggested 
to  B  by  the  action  of  A,  the  faith  may  be  stronger  in  the 
mind  of  B  than  if  it  had  first  arisen  in  his  own  mind — it 
comes  with  authority;  and  after   such  an  idea  has  become 
prevalent   in  a  group   of   savages  people  do  not  dare  take 
chances  with  it. 

6.  One  instance  in  which  the  belief  works,  that  is  to  say, 
one  coincidence  between  the  belief  and  the  event,  arrests  atten- 
tion, is  told,  exaggerated,  and  retold,  and  does  more  to  con- 


554  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

firm  the  belief  than  many  instances  of  failure.  Instances 
of  the  failure  of  an  established  belief  to  work  are  explained 
away  on  the  ground  that  the  rules  of  the  magic  were  not 
exactly  followed  or  that  the  expected  result  was  otherwise 
prevented.  By  the  process  above  outlined  nature  men  develop 
elaborate  systems  of  pseudo-science  for  the  control  of  the 
results  which  they  desire  or  fear. 

The  tendency  to  invent  magic  is  still  strong  among  chil- 
dren and  the  ignorant,  and  would  go  to  great  lengths  if  not 
corrected  by  knowledge  of  natural  causation  .supplied  to  chil- 
dren by  their  elders  and  to  the  ignorant  by  the  better  edu- 
cated. Physicians  who  attend  the  ignorant  have  opportuni- 
ties to  witness  the  spontaneous  invention  of  new  magic  to 
meet  emergencies,  to  insure  strength  and  brightness  to  new- 
born infants,  and  recovery  to  the  afflicted.  Farmers  who 
insist  on  doing  certain  work  at  "the  right  time  of  the  moon" 
illustrate  the  persistence  of  the  tendency  to  rely  on  magic. 
And  the  whole  system  of  astrology  which  commanded  belief 
among  the  intelligent  during  certain  stages  of  our  own  civiliza- 
tion shows  how  hard  it  is  to  deny  causal  efficiency  to  what- 
ever powerfully  arrests  the  attention,  even  though  as  remote 
as  the  very  stars,  provided  the  nature  of  real  causal  connec- 
tion is  dimly  apprehended. 

(b)  Magic  that  is  based  on  supposed  relation  with  invisible 
persons  implies  the  development  of  belief  in  such  persons 
which  grows  from  the  second  root  of  religion,  next  to  be 
discussed.  Man  seeks  to  influence  unseen  beings  in  three 
ways: 

1.  He  may  believe  that  by  magic  he  obtains  control  over 
them,  that  if  he  knows  how,  he  can  command  them  and  they 
must  obey.  The  desire  to  control  them  suggests  a  method,  as 
the  desire  for  other  results  suggests  methods  by  the  mental 
process  above  described. 

2.  He  bargains  with  the  unseen  beings  and  seeks  their 
favor  by  gifts,  sacrifices,  and  services. 

3.  He  seeks  to  influence  them  by  his  words;  by  flattery 
and  praises  he  conciliates,  and  by  imploring  he  seeks  to  per- 
suade them.     Impersonal  and  personal  magic  differ  in  that 


EXAMPLES  OF  SOCIAL  EVOLUTION  555 

by  the  former,  men  seek  to  produce  results  directly,  while  by 
the  latter  they  seek  to  cause  invisible  beings  to  produce  the 
results. 

H.  Zoomorphism. — The  word  anthropomorphism  denotes 
the  practice  of  conceiving  of  unseen  beings  as  having  the  form 
and  attributes  of  men.  Zoomorphism  denotes  the  practice 
of  conceiving  them  to  have  the  form  and  attributes  of  either 
men  or  other  animals,  or  of  fantastic  combinations  of  human 
and  beastly  shape  and  character. 

Zoomorphism  is  based  upon  the  idea  that  every  effect 
implies  an  actor.  In  the  early  stages  of  mental  life  the  idea 
of  causation  which  is  most  familiar  and  intelligible  is  derived 
from  the  issuance  of  results  from  our  own  activity  and  that 
of  other  persons  and  animals  resembling  us  in  activity.  Thus, 
as  mentioned  before,  the  child  and  the  savage  ask,  "Who  made 
the  moon" ;  not  "what  caused"  but  "who  made"  is  the  natural 
form  of  inquiry.  Of  causation  by  reflection,  refraction,  chem- 
ical combination,  evolutionary  processes,  etc.,  there  are  at 
first  no  ideas.  And  so  they  ask  who  makes  the  sun  rise, 
traverse  the  heavens,  and  set ;  who  makes  the  rivers  flow,  the 
tides  surge,  the  thunder  roll,  the  ice  form,  the  trees  put  forth 
their  leaves  in  spring.  Wherever  there  is  a  deed  there  must 
be  a  doer;  there  must  be  great  and  mighty  beings  to  produce 
the  grand  effects  in  nature,  and  there  must  also  be  a  multitude 
of  little  beings  to  produce  the  countless  small  effects  too 
trivial  to  occupy  the  dignitaries  of  the  unseen  world,  to  sour 
the  milk,  to  cause  a  wart  to  come  or  disappear,  to  cause  all 
the  noises,  incidents,  strokes  of  luck,  and  bafflings  that  fill 
the  hours.  To  the  imaginative  mind  at  this  stage  of  educa- 
tion it  appears  that  the  unseen  population  of  the  world  may 
well  be  far  more  numerous  than  the  seen,  and  that  there 
must  be  among  them  diverse  beings,  some  friendly  and  some 
unfriendly  to  man,  great  gods  and  great  devils  and  little 
sprites,  nixies,  fairies,  gnomes,  goblins,  elves,  brownies, 
nymphs,  dryads  and  fauns.1 

1  A  priest,  it  is  said,  went  on  Walpurgis  night  to  count  the  devils, 
and  being  observed  by  one  of  them  was  asked  what  he  was  doing. 
When  he  confessed  his  intention  he  was  told  that  if  the  Alps  were 


556  '  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

Primitive  man  feels  himself  surrounded  by  unseen  beings 
who  can  mysteriously  benefit  or  harm  him  much  as  the  civilized 
man  feels  himself  surrounded  by  the  omnipresent  microbes. 
And  accordingly  the  one  seeks  for  disinfectants  and  the  other 
for  spirit-scarers. 

Here,  just  as  in  impersonal  mag'c,  the  desire  to  do  some- 
thing about  it,  suggests  something  to  do;  and  the  wish  that 
something  might  have  protective  power  suggests  that  almost 
anything  that  sufficiently  arrests  attention  in  connection  with 
the  wish,  may  be  the  right  thing.1 

Among  the  objects2  that  are  thought  to  be  effective  as 
protections  against  spirits  one  of  the  most  universal  is  fire. 
Fire  is  highly  arrestive  to  the  attention,  it  is  mysterious  and 
has  powers  to  harm  or  to  bless,  it  comforts  us  with  warmth, 
it  cooks  our  food,  it  melts  the  hard  iron,  it  dispels  the  terrifying 
darkness,  it  spreads  a  circle  of  safety  from  beasts — why  not 
from  spirits  also?  Peoples  in  all  quarters  of  the  globe  have 
regarded  a  fire,  a  lamp,  a  candle,  a  sacred  flame,  that  must 
on  no  account  be  allowed  to  go  out,  as  the  source  of  safety 
from  unseen  terrors.  English  farmers  used  to  gather  in 
the  wheat  fields  and  build  one  large  fire  and  twelve  smaller 
ones,  representing  Christ  and  the  apostles  by  this  means,  to- 
gether with  a  great  shouting  to  drive  away  the  spirits  that 
might  cause  blight  and  mildew. 

Next  to  fire  as  a  spirit-scarer  is  water,  a  mysterious  element 
that  drives  out  the  spirit  of  thirst  and  washes  away  many 
evil  things.  The  sprinkling  of  infants  to  keep  away  bad 
influences,  holy  water  and  baptism  in  many  forms  represent 
ancient  practices  common  to  many  peoples. 

Hardly  anything  is  easier  than  to  give  an  old  ceremony 
a  new  meaning;  even  among  us  baptism  means  the  descent 

broken  into  grains  of  sand  and  for  each  grain  there  were  a  devil,  and 
he  should  count  so  many  he  would  only  have  begun  to  number  the 
devils. 

1A11  the  better  if  it  is  something  that  is  almost  sure  to  be  handy 
at  time  of  nee'd.  Thus  we  choose  to  "knock  on  wood"  as  a  means 
of  protection. 

'Professor  W.  I.  Thomas  enumerates  to  his  classes  a  longer  list 
of  spirit-scarers. 


EXAMPLES  OF  SOCIAL  EVOLUTION  557 

of  the  Holy  Spirit  or  the  washing  away  of  sin  or  the  death 
of  an  old  life  and  the  beginning  of  a  new  one.  Ancient  cere- 
monies survive  with  new  interpretations.  Of  this  baptism, 
the  sprinkling  of  holy  water,  and  the  burning  of  candles  in 
churches  appear  to  be  illustrations. 

Metal  that  requires  the  magic  of  the  smith  to  melt  and 
fashion  it,  that  makes  weapons  which  let  out  the  life,  is 
thought  to  have  mystic  powers.  So  also  is  food  that  drives 
out  not  only  the  spirit  of  hunger  but  also  other  evil  spirits 
as  well,  and  brings  us  strength  and  cheer  in  place  of  de- 
spondency, moroseness,  and  weakness ;  hence,  to  scatter  rice 
or  other  grain  is  protective  and  of  good  omen. 

There  are  not  only  protective  objects  but  also  protective 
acts  and  protective  words  and  speeches  formulated  by  the 
mind  in  answer  to  the  desire  for  safety  from  the  unseen 
powers.  Yelling  and  racket,  bells  and  tom-toms,  are  thought 
to  drive  away  evil  spirits  and  assist  in  the  cure  of  the  sick,  in 
the  safe  passage  of  the  dying  and  in  the  guarding  of  infants. 
Threatening  gestures,  blows,  and  whipping  serve  the  same 
purpose.  It  was  thus  that  the  soldiers  of  Xerxes  scourged 
the  Hellespont  to  drive  away  or  subdue  the  spirits  that  dis- 
turbed the  waters.  Liquor  is  full  of  "spirits"  as  we  still  say, 
both  good  spirits  that  cheer  and  evil  spirits  that  make  men 
violent  and  wicked.  Therefore,  before  broaching  a  cask  whip 
it  well  with  switches,  and  if  you  want  to  sell  it  hang  the  bundle 
of  switches  or  bush  over  your  door  to  show  that  you  have 
plenty  of  new  and  well-chastened  wine ;  but  "good  wine  needs 
no  bush"  to  advertise  it.  A  whip  becomes  in  itself  a  pro- 
tective object  and  finally  any  piece  of  leather  may  be  so 
regarded. 

Thirteen  centuries  before  Christ  to  draw  a  cross  was 
already  a  way  to  make  a  spirit  trap  that  would  catch  and  hold 
the  invisible  beings  of  evil  intent,  and  far  and  wide  the 
drawing  of  a  circle  or  curve  is  regarded  as  a  way  to  make 
a  trap  to  keep  them  in,  or  to  erect  a  fortification  to  keep  them 
out.  Perhaps  both  the  curve  and  the  metal  of  the  horseshoe 
made  it  seem  to  our  forefathers  protective. 

In    order    adequately    to    understand    the    tendency    to 


558  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

zoomorphism  it  must  be  borne  in  mind  .that  the  savage  does 
not  look  down  upon  the  animals  as  we  do.  He  cannot  build 
an  abode  equal  to  that  of  the  oven-bird  or  the  beaver,  he 
would  gladly  possess  eyes  like  the  hawk,  strength  like  the 
bear  or  the  ox,  courage  like  the  lion,  cunning  like  the  fox, 
the  deadly  power  of  the  serpent,  vigilance  or  skill  in  stalking 
game  like  that  of  the  leopard.  In  most  things  to  which  he 
aspires  the  animals  surpass  him. 

Moreover,  the  sense  of  mystery  demands  strange  symbols 
and  sets  the  imagination  roaming,  and  often  the  fittest  em- 
bodiment of  the  powers  he  fears  or  worships  seems  not  to  be 
a  form  like  any  that  he  sees  but  one  in  which  there  are  com- 
bined the  shapes  of  men  and  beasts,  as  in  griffins,  sphinxes, 
and  other  imaginary  monsters.  And  when  a  people  has  once 
formed  conceptions  of  the  forms  of  the  gods,  these  concep- 
tions are  likely  to  survive  filled  with  an  enriching  symbolism, 
as  ancient  ceremonies  survive  with  changed  interpretations, 
and  still  to  be  retained  when  the  people  become  as  civilized 
as  the  Hindus  or  Egyptians. 

Primitive  people  not  only  fear  the  unseen  zoomorphic 
beings,  but  also  seek  their  aid.  This  leads  to  fetishism.  The 
savage,  with  the  vague  notions  of  causal  relationship  which 
alone  are  possible  to  men  who  have  made  little  progress  in 
explanation,  thinks  that  to  possess  anything  that  has  been 
in  close  relation  with  a  person  is  to  establish  a  mystic  relation 
with  that  person.  He  does  not  carelessly  throw  aside  the 
skin  of  the  banana  he  has  eaten,  for  if  his  enemy  should  pick 
it  up  would  he  not  have  power  over  the  man  in  whose  vitals 
the  pulp  of  the  banana  was!  The  hair  cut  from  his  head  or 
any  cast-off  article  that  he  had  made  or  long  worn  he  carefully 
secretes  or  destroys.  Now  if  this  same  savage  finds  a 
strangely  gnarled  stick  or  a  bit  of  fossil  or  meteorite,  which 
evidently  has  been  shaped  by  some  mysterious  power,  he 
hopes  that  by  possessing  it  he  may  establish  relations  with 
the  power  that  shaped  it  and  perhaps  still  haunts  it.  And 
if  while  he  keeps  it  he  has  good  luck  and  his  prayers  are 
answered,  he  prizes  it  and  will  not  willingly  part  with  it 
unless  for  a  valuable  consideration.  If,  however,  it  seems 


EXAMPLES  OF  SOCIAL  EVOLUTION  559 

to  bring  him  no  good  luck  he  will  throw  it  away.  The  value 
which  the  savage  attaches  to  the  fetish  which  he  carries  about 
with  him  seems  to  be  of  precisely  the  same  sort  as  that 
which  devout  Catholics  have  attached  to  relics  of  the  saints, 
objects  that  have  had  close  relation  with  a  supernal  being 
and  which  aid  the  possessor  in  maintaining  special  relations 
with  that  being.  Grottoes,  strange  bowlders,  trees  of  unusual 
shape  or  size,  men  everywhere  seem  prone  to  call  "devil's 
den,"  or  "witches'  seat,"  or  the  like.  Such  manifestations 
and  abodes  of  strange  powers  also  become  fetishes.  But  it 
is  not  the  great  rock  or  tree  that  is  worshiped.  Probably 
men  never  anywhere  have  literally  worshiped  sticks  or 
stones.  As  one  savage  in  answer  to  inquiry  declared,  "Tree 
not  fetish.  Fetish  spirit  not  seen;  live  in  tree."1 

III.  Ancestor  Worship. — Belief  that  man  is  surrounded  by 
spirits  arises  not  only  from  zoomorphic  interpretation  of  nat- 
ural processes  and  natural  events,  but  also  from  belief  in  the 
survival  of  human  spirits  after  the  death  of  the  body.  Thus 
Codrington  in  his  "Melanesians"  says  that  that  people  have 
two  words  for  spirit,  one  denoting  zoomorphic  nature  spirits, 
and  the  other  denoting  the  spirits  of  ancestors.  Ravages  do 
not  regard  the  death  of  the  body  as  the  termination  of  life; 
doubt  of  life  after  death  arises  later  in  men's  minds.  Belief 
that  the  spirit  survives  dissolution  arises  in  perfectly  natural, 
even  inevitable  ways.  When  a  man  awakens  in  the  morning 
and  declares  that  he  has  been  in  the  forest,  seen  a  foe,  or 
encountered  a  lion  and  barely  escaped  with  his  life,  or  that 
he  has  been  on  a  journey  or  had  a  successful  hunt,  and  those 
that  are  with  him  in  the  hut  know  that  his  body  has  lain 
there  all  night,  they  conclude  and  he  concludes  that  he  can 
have  experiences  in  which  his  body  does  not  participate.  It 
is  hard  to  persuade  the  child  who  wakes  up  terrified  that  the 
cause  of  his  fear  was  "only  a  dream."  Savages  have  no 
one  to  correct  their  belief  in  the  reality  of  dreams.  Often 
to  gather  at  dawn  to  recount  the  experiences  of  the  past  night 
is  a  regular  and  important  part  of  the  day's  interest.  Some 
tribes  decamp  and  flee  if  one  of  their  number  dreams  of 

1  Brinton :    Religions  of  Primitive  Peoples,  p.  132. 


560  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

seeing  an  enemy  approaching.  Some  think  that  in  their  shadow 
and  in  their  reflection  they  catch  glimpses  of  their  own 
"double."  If  one  is  struck  in  the  head  his  spirit  leaves  the 
injured  body,  after  a  while  he  "comes  to,"  or  if  the  injury 
is  too  severe  the  separation  is  permanent  and  the  body  is  not 
reanimated.  Then  where  is  the  spirit  that  has  withdrawn 
from  the  visible  form?  It  must  be  near!  You  cannot  see 
it.  You  can  never  know  when  it  is  seeing  you  and  listening 
to  your  words.  Therefore  "speak  no  evil  of  the  dead,"  for 
who  can  tell  in  what  mysterious  ways  the  invisible  can  affect 
us,  or  how  much  of  our  sickness  and  ill-luck  are  due  to  their 
ill-will.  Nothing  sets  bounds  to  the  fancy  in  its  dreadful 
conjectures  about  the  hovering  ghosts.  Moreover,  ghosts 
have  reason  to  be  vengeful  and  ill-humored  for  have  they  not 
been  driven  out  of  the  body  and  deprived  of  visible  life? 
Death  by  blows  gives  ground  for  taking  vengeance  and  death 
by  sickness  no  less,  for  sickness  is  practically  always  attributed 
by  -savages  to  magic,  exercised  by  an  enemy.  And  pavages 
are  not  prevented  from  taking  vengeance  by  the  fact  that 
they  do  not  know  what  individual  caused  the  injury. 

For  such  reasons  as  these  savages  sometimes  try  to  pre- 
vent the  escape  of  the  ghosts  of  those  about  to  die  by 
strangling  them  and  leaving  a  ligature  about  the  neck,  or 
by  driving  a  stake  through  the  breast.  Some  peoples  who 
have  no  permanent  abodes  decamp  and  flee  the  haunted  place 
whenever  a  death  has  occurred,  exercising  precautions  that 
the  ghost  shall  not  follow  them,  for  instance  carrying  their 
weapons  pointed  backwards  and  stacking  them  in  that  posi- 
tion when  they  stop  to  sleep.  The  precautions  to  be  taken 
are  suggested  by  desire  and  analogy,  and  faith  in  them 
is  developed  by  the  process  already  repeatedly  referred  to. 
More  frequently  people  try  tc  conciliate  the  ghost.  They 
gather  in  the  presence  of  the  dying  and  praise  him  inordinately 
and  exhibit  signs  of  mourning  at  his  departure.  They  are 
careful  after  his  death  to  continue  the  forms  of  praise  and 
mourning,  even  at  times  hiring  men  to  keep  up  the  demonstra- 
tion of  grief.  No  one  dares  to  use  anything  that  had  belonged 
to  the  dead,  for  fear  of  exciting  jealous  vengeance.  His 


EXAMPLES  OF  SOCIAL  EVOLUTION  561 

standing  crops  are  burned  and  his  personal  belongings  are 
burned  or  cast  into  the  sea  or  buried  with  the  corpse.  Thus 
there  is  no  saving  from  generation  to  generation  to  promote 
economic  progress,  but  each  generation  destroys  the  accumula- 
tions of  its  predecessors. 

The  burning  of  property  with  the  body  of  the  dead  results 
not  only  from  fear  of  using  the  belongings  of  a  ghost  but 
also  sometimes  from  an  intention  to  provide  the  departed 
with  the  spiritual  essence,  the  double,  of  that  which  he  has 
used  here  and  will  require  hereafter;  for  if  the  man  has  a 
double,  why  should  not  a  bow  or  a  knife  or  a  tree  or  a  moun- 
tain have  a  double,  as  well  as  a  shadow  and  a  reflection? 
Belief  that  inanimate  things  as  well  as  living  beings  have  an 
unseeable  counterpart  or  essence,  a  soul  or  "anima,"  is  wide- 
spread. For  example  the  Japanese  housewife  attributes  a 
soul  to  her  kitchen  utensils,  and  the  soldier  to  his  sword. 
This  belief  is  called  "animism."  The  conception  is  difficult 
to  us  only  because  it  is  unfamiliar.  We  may  not  always 
distinguish  from  each  other  the  manifestations  of  that  fetish- 
ism described  above,  which  is  based  upon  the  idea  that  a 
thing  has  .been  associated  with  a  supernatural  being,  and 
those  of  animism  which  is  based  on  the  idea  that  a  thing  is, 
or  has,  a  spiritual  essence  of  which  its  observable  qualities 
are  a  manifestation. 

The  propitiation  of  the  spirits  of  the  dead  by  praises, 
prayers,  and  sacrifices  is  carried  on  at  the  places  of  burial. 
Thus,  said  Spencer,  graves  become  the  first  altars  and  tombs 
the  first  temples. 

It  is  felt  to  be  especially  necessary  to  propitiate  the  spirit 
of  a  great  and  powerful  chief  whose  mysterious  powers  the 
timorous  imagination  is  free  to  exaggerate  unchecked  and 
uncomforted  by  any  saving  ray  of  knowledge.  All  peoples, 
as  they  progress,  tend  to  gather  glorifying  traditions  about 
«.some  great  characters  in  their  history.  Thus  while  each 
family  or  clan  worships  and  propitiates  the  spirits  of  its 
own  particular  dead  forbears,  the  families  enter  also  into 
the  common  worship  of  the  heroes  of  the  whole  tribe  or 
people.  This  implies  a  considerable  degree  of  advancement, 


562  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

and  is  especially  characteristic  of  the  patriarchal  phase  of 
social  evolution.  Any  patriarch,  under  whom  the  tribe  par- 
ticularly prospers,  contributes  real  incidents,  and  patriotic 
and  religious  imagination  add  more,  all  of  which  tend  to 
gather  about  the  name  of  a  few  or  of  one  of  those  from 
whom  the  group  believes  itself  descended.  The  spirits  of 
these  dead  heroes  become  the  tribal  gods. 

In  the  earlier  stages  of  its  development  religion  is  chiefly 
a  matter  of  fear  and  not  of  hope  or  love;  but  in  the  stage 
just  described  it  is  natural  to  think  that  the  household  or 
tribal  divinities  will  exercise  their  powers  in  the  interest  of 
their  own  "chosen  people."  This  is  accompanied  by  the  belief 
that  other  peoples  have  their  gods  who  are  favorable  to 
them,  so  that  in  case  of  warfare  the  contest  is  thought  to 
be  between  both  the  unseen  and  the  visible  representatives 
of  each  people. 

A  conquering  people  believes  that  its  gods  are  conquering 
gods,  lords  of  lords,  and  kings  over  both  kings  and  gods.  To 
regard  their  own  god  as  superior  in  power  and  other  attributes 
is  not  the  same  as  to  become  philosophical  monotheists.  This 
belief  is  not  monotheism  but  monarchy  among  divinities. 
Monotheism  comes  very  late. 

Visible  rulers  have  been  quick  to  avail  themselves  of  the 
obvious  addition  to  their  power  which  resulted  whenever 
people  could  be  made  to  feel  that  the  gods  required  that'  which 
the  visible  rulers  commanded.  The  fact  that  the  difference 
between  gods  and  kings  was  not  very  wide  in  the  minds  of 
ancestor-worshiping  peoples  who  as  yet  were  far  from  the 
concept  of  monotheism,  is  shown  by  the  practice  of  according 
divine  honors  to  living  potentates  as  was  done  by  the  Romans. 
To  accord  divine  honors  to  a  living  man  was  to  acknowledge 
that  he  was  one  of  those  whose  mighty  spirits,  after  disem- 
bodiment, have  to  be  propitiated.  Through  all  discussion  of 
this  subject  the  word  "god"  means  unseen  being,  powerful  * 
enough  greatly  to  harm  or  to  help  men.  The  Devil  and  all  the 
saints  are  gods,  in  the  sense  in  which  we  all  use  those  words 
when  speaking  of  the  religions  of  non-Christian  peoples.  If 
we  had  discovered  Milton's  "Paradise  Lost"  written  in  a 


EXAMPLES  OF  SOCIAL  EVOLUTION  563 

strange  tongue  and  calling  its  supernatural  beings  by  other 
names  than  ours,  we  should  not  have  hesitated  to  pronounce 
it  the  expression  of  a  highly  polytheistic  religion. 

In  the  roots  of  its  development  religion  has  no  essential 
connection  with  morality  or  righteousness.  The  gods  were 
thought  of  as  exhibiting  the  motives  and  passions  which  man 
would  exercise  if  he  feared  no  superior,  and  religious  conduct 
was  simply  the  etiquette  or  ceremony  of  the  court  of  the 
unseen  potentate.  And  as  man  was  always  in  the  presence 
of  the  unseen  he  was  always  living  at  court  and  must  regu- 
late his  every  action  by  the  required  ceremonial.  It  was 
natural  and  inevitable  to  think  that  the  requirements  of  the 
unseen  would  resemble  those  enforced  by  visible  rulers,  and 
there  was  a  general  correspondence  between  the  obeisances, 
adulation,  and  tribute  rendered  to  both.  Conversely,  visible 
rulers  have  been  quick  to  avail  themselves  of  the  obvious 
addition  to  their  own  power  which  resulted  whenever  peoples 
could  be  made  to  feel  that  the  gods  required  that  which  the 
visible  rulers  commanded.  Omitting  for  the  present  many 
qualifications,  we  may  say  that  ethical  requirements  result 
from  the  lessons  of  experience  concerning  that  which  pro- 
motes or  diminishes  the  common  welfare.  Rulers  early  rec- 
ognize the  teaching  of  experience  as  to  what  promotes  the 
tribal  strength  and  solidarity  for  purposes  of  war,  and  in  the 
patriarchal  phase  they  are  not  blind  to  that  which  promotes 
economic  prosperity.  As  soon  as  rulers  or  leading  men 
(prophets)  become  deeply  interested  in  the  tribal  welfare 
they  feel  certain  that  what  they  are  convinced  the  common 
good  requires,  is  in  accordance  with  the  will  of  the  unseen 
spirit-patriarchs  and  divinities  of  the  tribe,  and  so  they 
declare  to  the  people  that  to  secure  divine  favor  and  avert 
divine  wrath,  to  secure  prosperity  in  basket  and  store  and 
victory  over  their  adversaries,  they  must  fulfill  not  only  cere- 
monial but  also  ethical  requirements.  When  to  proffered 
rewards  and  threatened  punishments  in  this  life  is  added  the 
thought  that  the  same  unseen  potentates  will  rule  over  and 
continue  their  favor  or  disfavor  in  a  life  to  come,  religion 
becomes  a  yet  more  stupendous  agency  of  social  control. 


564  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

Two  distinct  tendencies  in  the  development  of  religions 
are  recognized  by  scholars.  The  first  may  be  called  the 
priestly  tendency  and  the  second  the  prophetic;  the  first  is 
based  chiefly  on  fear,  the  second  more  on  hope  and  love; 
the  first  inculcates  ritual  requirements,  the  ceremonies  and 
observances  by  which  to  court  the  favor  of  the  invisible 
potentate  and  all  distinctively  religious  requirements  while  it 
looks  down  upon  "mere"  morality,  insisting  far  less  loudly 
upon  righteousness  than  upon  religious  conformity,  but  the 
second  inculcates  chiefly  ethical  requirements,  it  may  .  even 
say,  "Incense  is  an  abomination  unto  me.1  Will  the  Lord  be 
pleased  with  thousands  of  rams,  or  with  ten  thousand  rivers 
of  oil?  ...  What  doth  the  Lord  require  of  thee  but  to  do 
justly,  and  to  love  mercy,  and  to  walk  humbly  with  Thy  God." 
The  first  approaches  deity  with  supplication,  praises  and 
flattery,  conciliation  and  atonement  in  order  to  secure  favor 
.and  favors j  the  second  trusts  an  ever-waiting  love  and  does 
not  seek  special  favors  but  finds  the  sufficient  reward  of  com- 
munion in  the  sense  of  personal  relation  with  the  divine.  The 
first  is  predominantly  selfish,  a  means  by  which  the  worshiper 
may  secure  to  himself  the  divine  favor,  avoid  calamity,  secure 
prosperity,  and  save  his  own  soul;  the  second  is  benevolent 
and  patriotic,  prescribes  the  method  by  which  to  secure  the 
common  prosperity  and  triumph  of  the  group,  and  at  its 
highest  aspires  toward  a  universal  kingdom  of  righteousness, 
the  establishment  of  which  is  the  supreme  cooperative  enter- 
prise in  which  all  good  men  combine  with  God,  and  what 
is  "done  to  one  of  the  least"  of  the  great  brotherhood  is 
done  unto  the  God  of  all.  The  first  is  conservative  and  re- 
actionary, ever  calling  upon  men  to  maintain  "the  religion 
of  their  fathers,"  and  unwilling  that  any  belief  or  practice 
regarded  as  religious  should  be  abandoned  or  modified;  the 
second  is  progressive,  always  adapting  its  requirements  to 
existing  exigencies  and  apt  to  say,  "Ye  have  heard  that  it  was 
said  unto  you  by  them  of  old  time  .  .  .  but  verily  I  say 
unto  you" — that  requirements  once  thought  essential  are  unim- 
portant and  that  only  vision  that  distinguishes  the  ethically 

1  Isaiah  1:13-17;  Micah  6:7,  8;  Amos  5:21-24. 


EXAMPLES  OF  SOCIAL  EVOLUTION  565 

fundamental  from  matter  of  observance  and  opinion  and 
applies  universal  principles  to  the  present  demands  of  society 
can  fulfill  the  will  of  God. 

IV.  Inspiration. — The  fourth  root  from  which  religious 
beliefs  and  practices  have  grown  is  found  in  inspiration  and 
miracle.  These  are  unusual  psychic  states  and  unusual  events 
which  are  ascribed  to  supernatural  agency. 

By  the  words  inspiration  and  miracle  I  here  refer  to  reali- 
ties. In  a  prescientific  age  with  a  people  among  whom  re- 
ligious beliefs  are  already  established  miracle  tales  spread 
and  grow  with  great  facility,  but  it  is  real  events  and  experi- 
ences that  play  a  part  in  the  origination  of  such  beliefs. 

Between  inspiration  and  miracle  no  absolute  line  need  be 
drawn,  but  we  will  first  give  attention  chiefly  to  inspiration. 
It  is  said  that  "by  far  the  majority  of  the  impressions  on  our 
senses  leave  no  trace  in  conscious  recollection,  although  they 
are  stored  in  the  records  of  the  brain."  According  to  this 
view  the  subconscious  stores  are  our  capital,  our  states  of 
consciousness  are  the  interest  we  collect,  and  all  our  past 
experience  is  on  deposit.  It  is  sufficiently  impressive  to  think 
that  even  a  major  part  of  the  sights  and  sounds  and  thoughts 
that  ever  were  present  to  our  vivid  consciousness  are  stored 
as  records  in  the  recesses  of  memory  and  that  from  this  vast 
half-hidden  accumulation  we  draw  the  interpretations  that 
give  meaning  to  the  perceptions  and  thoughts  of  each  passing 
moment.  We  have  not  only  this  vast  hidden  store;  we  have 
also  hidden  processes  of  combination  and  recombination,  of 
fermentation  and  growth  among  these  hidden  elements.  It  is 
even  said  that  such  subconscious  action  "is  not  only  common 
but  practically  if  not  absolutely  constant,"  and  even -if  we 
are  staggered  at  the  thought  of  its  continuity  we  may  all 
admit  that  "the  results  of  this  unperceived  labor  of  our  minds 
are  often  far  more  valuable  than  those  of  our  intelligent 
efforts."  Now  and  then,  under  stimulating  or  otherwise  favor- 
able conditions,  one  may  experience  an  upgush  out  of  the 
stores  of  his  mentality,  so  far  beyond  his  ordinary  powers 
and  containing  conceptions  and  conclusions  that  have  been 
reached  by  a  process  of  which  he  has  been  so  unconscious, 


566  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

that  he  says,  "This  is  not  mine ;  it  has  been  given  me !"  Thus 
the  poets  and  the  novelists  often  speak.  Most  of  the  great 
art  work  of  the  world  has  been  of  this  character,  it  is  every- 
where spoken  of  as  the  product  of  inspiration.  In  this  re- 
spect as  in  certain  others  religious  revelation  resembles 
art. 

A  state  of  concentration  and  eager  expectancy  is  favor- 
able to  such  experience,  so  that  the  earnest  prayer  of  faith 
is  likely  to  be  answered  by  consolations  and  decisions.  An 
experience  that  is  eagerly  desired  and  at  the  same  time  sought 
and  expected  is  naturally  produced  by  auto-suggestion,  so  that 
the  "seeker"  is  likely  soon  to  cry  out,  "I've  got  it,  I've  got 
it."  The  presence  of  an  expectant  surrounding  group  and 
similar  experiences  on  the  part  of  others  effectively  heighten 
the  power  of  auto-suggestion. 

Dreams  also  are  upwellings  out  of  the  unconscious.  They 
r\rc  Hkely  to  be  closely  related  to  recent  or  intense  waking 
states.  Thus,  for  example,  those  whose  death  has  been  re- 
cently witnessed  are  likely  to  be  seen  in  dreams.  This  power- 
fully confirms  belief  in  life  after  death,  not  necessarily  in 
immortal  life,  for  at  least  some  savages  have  not  formed  that 
concept,  but  believe  that  those  who  are  no  longer  seen  in 
dreams  or  remembered  by  the  living  are  spiritually  and  totally 
deceased.  Because  of  the  close  relation  between  waking 
thoughts  and  dreams  the  latter  frequently  suggest  answers 
to  problems  of  the  waking  life,  and  even  when  this  relation 
to  any  reality  is  least,  still  the  thoughts  that  come  with  waking 
are  likely  to  interpret  the  dream  into  some  connection  with 
themselves.  Moreover,  the  elements  contained  in  dreams, 
however  fantastically  they  may  be  recombined,  all  are  afforded 
by  previous  mental  states  and  so  they  are  likely  to  corroborate 
and  powerfully  confirm  the  beliefs  already  held. 

The  last  is  also  true  of  visions  seen  in  trances  and  other 
abnormal  states.  Especially  death-bed  visions  are  likely  to 
confirm,  as  with  ocular  demonstration,  faiths  concerning  the 
life  to  come.  Visions  and  hallucinations  are  common  in  disease 
and  often  occur  in  the  final  disturbance  of  the  brain  that 
precedes  dissolution,  and  at  that  time  the  mind  is  full  of 


EXAMPLES  OF  SOCIAL  EVOLUTION  567 

thoughts  and  hopes  or  fears  concerning  the  hereafter  and 
established  beliefs  are  not  unlikely  to  visualize  themselves. 

One  of  the  widespread  practices  of  early  religions  is  to 
induce  the  physical  states  that  are  accompanied  by  hallucina- 
tions. Inhaling  of  gases,  long  abstinence  from  food,  dances 
carried  to  the  point  of  exhaustion,  are  among  the  familiar 
means  of  obtaining  trances  and  visions.1 

Quite  commonly  boys,  at  the  time  of  initiation  into  man- 
hood, are  expected  by  aid  of  fasts  and  vigils,  to  secure  some 
vision,  revelation,  or  ecstatic  state.  The  breaking  down  of 
normal  nervous  coordination  is  a  cultivated  art  so  that  among 
certain  peoples,  as  the  African  Zulus,  it  is  said  that  "any 
adult  can  cast  himself  or  herself  into  the  hypnotic  state." 
Those  with  especially  unstable  nervous  systems  are  regarded 
generally  as  religiously  gifted  and  likely  to  become  medicine 
men,  priests,  or  priestesses.  The  supernatural  origin  of  the 
mental  states  thus  obtained  is  confidently  assumed  and  unin- 
telligible babblings  are  regarded  as  mystic  utterances  in  un- 
known tongues.  Even  in  America  and  in  present  times  a 
person  who  becomes  cataleptic  under  great  religious  excite- 
ment is  sometimes  spoken  of  as  "possessed  by  the  Holy 
Ghost." 

Miracles. — And  now  as  to  miracles :  any  strange  and  unex- 
plained event  is  practically  certain  to  be  regarded,  by  people 
who  are  in  a  prescientific  stage  of  development,  as  a  miracle. 
The  miracles  which  especially  deserve  our  attention  are  the 
miracles  of  healing.  The  power  of  the  mind  over  the  body  is 
now  an  established  fact.  The  action  of  the  mind  not  only 
constantly  controls  our  voluntary  muscles  but  also  in  common 
experience  it  causes  the  vital  organs  to  alter  their  operations, 
so  that  the  cheek  flushes  or  blanches,  the  heart  palpitates,  the 
functions  of  the  alimentary  canal  and  of  the  liver,  salivary, 
and  other  glands  are  stopped,  quickened  or  perturbed.  The 
great  majority  of  diseases  (it  is  said  four-fifths)  are  caused 
by  irregularities  in  the  functioning  of  the  organs  rather  than 
injuries  to  the  organs  themselves.  This  being  so,  how  vast 

1  Davenport :  Primitive  Traits  in  Religious  Experience ;  James : 
Varieties  of  Religious  Experience. 


568  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

a  power  over  health  and  disease  has  the  mind !  As  the  mind 
through  the  nerves  can  absolutely  control  the  voluntary  mus- 
cles, so  it  seems  that  scarcely  less  absolutely  can  it  control 
all  the  functions  of  the  body.  If  one  were  to  be  as  certain 
that  his  heart  would  double,  or  abate  by  half,  its  beating  at 
a  given  hour  as  he  can  be  that  he  will  leave  his  office  for  his 
home  at  that  hour,  the  effect  upon  his  heart  would  apparently 
be  little,  if  at  all, '  less"  direct  than  that  upon  his  muscles  of 
locomotion.  The  facts  in  substantiation  of  such  a  view  are 
exceedingly  numerous. 

"A  Frenchman  of  rank  was  condemned  to  death  for  a 
crime,  and  his  friends,  willing  to  avoid  the  scandal  of  a  public 
execution,  allowed  him  to  be  made  the  subject  of  an  experi- 
ment. He  was  told  that  he  must  be  bled  to  death.  His  eyes 
were  bandaged  and  his  arm  having  been  lightly  pricked  a 
stream  of  warm  water  was  made  to  trickle  down  it  and  fall 
into  a  basin,  while  the  assistants  kept  up  a  running  commentary 
upon  his  supposed  condition.  'He  is  getting  faint,  the  heart's 
action  is  becoming  feebler ;  his  pulse  is  almost  gone/  and  other 
remarks  of  the  sort.  In  a  short  time  the  miserable  man  died 
with  the  actual  symptoms  of  cardiac  syncope  from  hemor- 
rhage, without  having  lost  a  drop  of  blood."  *  "Among  sav- 
age tribes,  in  undoubted  and  repeated  instances  the  curse  kills 
as  certainly  as  the  knife.  Among  western  Indians  of  our 
country,  when  a  medicine  man  'gathers  his  medicine,'  that 
is,  rises  to  the  full  height  of  inspired  volition,  and  utters  a 
withering  curse  upon  his  antagonist  commanding  him  to 
die,  the  latter  knows  all  hope  is  lost.  Sometimes  he  drops 
dead  on  the  spot,  or  at  best  lingers  through  a  few  days  of 
misery."  2 

But  the  power  of  the  mind  over  the  body  is  not  only  for 
cursing  and  death,  but  also  for  blessing  health  and  recovery. 
"A  mind  to  live"  and  "the  expectation  of  recovery"  as  well 
as  "the  welcoming  of  death"  have  their  direct  effect.  Scientific 
books  are  now  written  concerning  the  part  of  suggestion  in 

1  C.  Lloyd  Tuckey :  Treatment  by  Hypnotism  and  Suggestion  or 
Psycho-Therapeutics.  London,  1907,  5th  ed.,  p.  30. 

'Brinton:     Religions  of  Primitive  Peoples,  pp.  90-100. 


EXAMPLES  OF  SOCIAL  EVOLUTION  569 

therapeutics.1  "In  all  ages  wonderful  cures,  real  amid  a 
multitude  of  shams,  have  been  wrought  at  holy  places  dedi- 
cated to  various  saints  of  various  cults."  Of  the  throngs  who 
for  centuries  have  sought  and  still  seek  healing  at  Mecca, 
at  the  sacred  rivers  and  shrines  of  Hinduism,  Buddhism,  in 
the  Grotto  of  Our  Lady  of  Lourdes,  before  the  holy  coat  of 
Treves,  and  at  a  hundred  other  holy  places  of  the  Catholic 
Church  by  no  means  all  have  been  disappointed.  "Touching 
for  the  king's  evil  did  no  doubt  effect  many  cures."  Great 
numbers  of  healers  in  all  lands  and  ages,  from  the  .savage 
medicine  man  to  Alexander  Dowie,  and  of  all  degrees  of  sham 
and  of  sanctity  from  charlatans  who  inspired  faith  in  doc- 
trines that  to  them  were  pure  pretense,  to  Martin  Luther, 
Dorothea  Trudel,  and  many  a  devout  believer  in  divine  inter- 
vention in  behalf  of  the  sick,  have  taken  practical  advantage 
of  the  mind's  power  over  the  bodily  functions.  They  have 
inspired  confident  expectation  of  recovery  by  appeal  to  the 
most  various  beliefs,  and  the  confident  expectation  has  caused 
effects  that  have  confirmed  the  belief  whether  it  was  belief 
in  the  power  of  Gunga  or  of  Allah,  and  whether  the  prophet 
were  Brigham  Young  or  the  reverent  and  saintly  Charles 
Cullis. 

Homologies  in  Religion. — Out  of  the  "four  roots"  which 
we  have  now  described  there  have  grown  masses  of  the 
most  various  belief  and  practice  characteristic  of  peoples 
of  every  stage  of  ethical  advancement.  But  quite  as  impres- 
sive as' the  variety  of  these  beliefs  are  the  resemblances  be- 
tween many  of  them.  Similar*  beliefs  about  the  zoomorphic 
cosmogony  are  widely  diffused  and  were  participated  in  by 
the  early  Semites  whose  traditions  we  inherit.  Beliefs  con- 
cerning the  hereafter  exhibit  many  interesting  similarities. 
Various  peoples  possess  a  cycle  of  myths  based  upon  the 
conflict  of  nature,  of  day  with  night,  of  light  with  darkness, 
of  summer  and  warmth  with  winter,  cold,  and  storm,  of  youth 
with  age,  health  with  disease,  life  with  death,  good  with  evil, 
and  hold  that  victory  will  not  always  rest  with  the  powers 

1  Georg  Wetterstrand :  Hypnotism  and  Its  Applications  to  Prac- 
tical Medicine.  Tr.  by  Henrik  G.  Petersen.  See  Bibliography. 


570  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

of  darkness  for,  as  they  believe  in  great  heroes,  conquer- 
ors, and  teachers  of  useful  arts  and  virtues  who  have  lived 
in  the  past,  so  also  they  have  for  the  future  a  messianic 
hope. 

The  foregoing  discussion  has  not  raised  the  question 
whether  the  religious  beliefs  of  the  tribes  of  mankind  cor- 
respond with  any  reality,  but  has  only  traced  the  method  of 
the  origins  of  these  beliefs,  considered  as  prevalent  social 
phenomena.  Human  intelligence,  developed  in  connection 
with  fitting  a  tiny  round  of  activities  to  certain  superficial 
aspects  of  a  very  limited  environment,  is  inadequate  to 
comprehend  in  detail  the  whole  and  ultimate  truth  about 
the  universe.  Science  has  somewhat  widened  the  narrow 
circumference  of  man's  knowledge  and  replaced  his  earli- 
est guesses,  but  has  not  illuminated  the  telescopic  spaces 
of  his  ignorance.  The  more  man's  knowledge  grows,  the 
vaster  his  estimate  of  that  which  lies  beyond  the  com- 
pass of  his  senses.  At  first  he  imagined  nature  spirits  in 
the  form  of  men  or  beasts;  long  he  conceived  the  methods  of 
creation  on  the  analogy  of  human  artifice.  Later  he  has  begun 
to  get  some  hints  of  a  method  of  creation  far  more  divine 
than  man's  imagination  could  have  invented,  to  see  that  the 
power  at  work  in  nature  does  not  operate  by  the  contraction 
of  muscles,  that  a  universal  intelligence  cannot  be  dependent 
upon  the  neuroses  of  a  brain,  that  power  and  intelligence 
independent  of  organic  mechanism  may  well  be  freed  from 
boundaries  of  space  or  limitations  of  attention,  that  the  words 
omnipotent  and  omnipresent  may  have  real  meaning,  and 
that  the  power  and  the  intelligence  that  are  adequate  to  the 
continuous  causation  of  all  the  phenomena  of  such  a  uni- 
verse as  this  cannot  be  portrayed  in  human  terms  and  under 
a  bodily  semblance. 

All  savages  and  all  children  are  idolaters — in  the  sense 
that  they  tend  to  imagine  visible  embodiments  of  divinity.  The 
God  of  childhood  is  likely  to  be  "a  benevolent  old  gentleman 
with  a  long  white  beard."  We  first  shrink  from  chiseling 
or  painting  him  not  because  we  doubt  that  he  has  a  limited 
and  sensible  shape,  but  because  we  think  that  we  know 


EXAMPLES  OF  SOCIAL  EVOLUTION  571 

his  form  and  features  imperfectly,  as  we  do  that  of  a  relative 
whom  we  have  never  met,  and  because  we  think  our  art  in- 
adequate. In  the  Middle  Ages,  artists  confident  of  their 
pictorial  powers  did  not  hesitate  to  paint  portraits  of  Jehovah. 
There  is  no  fundamental  difference  between  the  worship  of 
a  god  whose  features  are  portrayed  in  stone  or  upon  a  canvas 
and  worshiping  one  whose  eidolon  is  conceived  in  human 
form  within  the  mind.  As  we  have  seen,  probably  no  men 
were  ever  idolaters  in  the  crude  sense  of  worshiping  images 
as  more  than  the  representation  of  an  unseen  being,  and  prob- 
ably no  people  that  has  risen  high  has  been  free  from  the 
tendency  to  make  of  its  god  an  eidolon  in  spatial  form.  When 
the  beliefs  of  any  people  seem  to  us  utterly  absurd  we  may 
be  almost  if  not  quite  certain  that  it  is  because  we  do  not 
understand  them  or  get  at  their  point  of  view.  Perhaps,  for 
some  purposes  it  does  no  harm  for  men  to  think  of  God  in 
terms  of  human  personality,  as  distinguished  from  spatial 
or  corporeal  form.  But  they  should  remember  that  He  is  more 
than  can  be  comprehended  in  those  terms.  As  one  cannot 
drink  the  Amazon,  but  afloat  upon  its  mighty  bosom  may  dip 
up  from  those  waters  in  a  cup  as  much  as  he  can  drink,  so  we 
who  live  and  move  and  have  our  being  in  the  infinite,  because 
we  cannot  conceive  the  infinite,  may  slake  our  soul's  thirst 
with  thoughts  of  God  in  terms  of  human  personality  judging 
that  our  thought  is  not  then  more  than  the  truth  but  immeas- 
ureably  less. 

The  Three  Stages  of  Social  Evolution. — There  is  one  more 
generalization  relating  to  the  subject  of  social  evolution,  and 
one  which  may  prove  to  be  as  important  as  the  famous  gen- 
eralization of  Comte  concerning  the  theological,  metaphysical 
and  positive  stages  of  thought.  It  was  not  stated  at  the  out- 
set in  connection  with  the  stages  of  social  evolution  partly 
because  its  apprehension  requires  a  knowledge  of  facts  such 
as  have  now  been  presented.  The  evolution  of  social  activities 
tends  to  show  three  stages,  in  the  first  of  which  social  activity 
is  defined  by  instinct  and  biological  necessity,  in  the  second 
of  which  social  activity  breaks  those  definite  bounds  and  enters 
upon  a  career  of  random  vagaries,  in  the  third  of  which  the 


572  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

modes  of  social  activity  again  become  more  definitely  sys- 
tematic, being  defined  by  reason  in  the  light  of  past  experi- 
ence; and  there  is  a  marked  resemblance  between  the  social 
activities  of  the  first  stage  which  are  defined  by  instinct  and 
biological  necessity  and  those  of  the  third  stage  which  are 
defined  by  reason,  the  latter  however  being  carried  on  with 
immensely  developed  resources,  and  upon  a  far  higher  plane. 
Thus  the  course  of  social  evolution  is  like  a  spiral  stairway 
of  many  broken  steps,  which  traverses  one  complete  circle 
to  reach  a  landing  directly  above  the  starting-point,  but  on 
a  far  higher  level. 

1.  The  family,  so   far  as  evidence  justifies  an  opinion, 
had  originally  a  form  that  was  forced  upon  it  by  instinct  and 
biological  necessity,  namely,  primitive  pairing.     The  family 
passed  through  a  second  period  of  random  experimentation 
with  every  conceivable  vagary.     Finally  it  settles  again  to  a 
uniform  and  regular  type  which  is  the  product  of  natural 
social  selection  and  racial  experience,   as   comprehended  by 
reason.     And  this   form,  adopted  by  reason,  is  monogamy, 
bearing  a  close  resemblance  to  the  supposed  primitive  pair- 
ing. 

2.  The  position  of  woman  was  at  first  equal  to  that  of 
man.    The  family  was  matronymic,  and  the  deities  of  primitive 
folk  were  quite  as  likely  to  be  goddesses  as  gods.     But  with 
respect  to  the  position  of  woman  social  usages  passed  into 
a  long  period  of  random  vagaries  in  which  under  many  forms 
appeared  one  general  characteristic,  namely,  the  subjection 
of  woman.    There  is  however  a  tendency  for  advanced  socie- 
ties to  enter  a  third  stage  with  respect  to  the  general  treat- 
ment of  woman,  a  stage  which  does  not  arrive  until  some 
time  after  the  monogamous   family  has  been  firmly  estab- 
lished as  the  social  norm.    In  this  third  stage  there  is  a  strong 
tendency  for  experience  and  "reason  to  suppress  the  endless 
ingenuities   of    feminine   subjection   and   restore  her   to   the 
social  equality   .vhich  she  originally  enjoyed. 

3.  Politically  the  savage  is  the  freest  of  men.     But  soon 
political  development  enters  a  second  stage  characterized  by 
endless   forms  of  conquest,  slavery,  serfdom,  villenage  and 


EXAMPLES  OF  SOCIAL  EVOLUTION  573 

finally  more  moderate  forms  of  tryanny.  Even  in  compara- 
tively recent  times  the  rank  and  file  of  English  "freemen" 
were  not  free  to  come  and  go,  to  choose  and  pursue  their 
callings,  and  to  express  in  untrammeled  action  their  beliefs; 
and  their  participation  in  the  affairs  of  the  state  of  which 
they  were  members  was  comparatively  slight.  Only  of  late, 
and  in  the  most  advanced  nations,  has  reason  made  civic 
equality  a  matter  to  be  granted  without  avowed  opposition 
and  asserted  a  claim  to  a  political  equality  like  that  which  upon 
a  lower  plain  was  enjoyed  by  savages. 

4.  Prestige,  probably  the  most  powerful  factor  in  social 
organization,   which   by  its   particular  type  gives  color  and 
character  to  all  the  customs  and  institutions  of  a  society,  is 
at  first  based  upon  personal  qualities,  those  qualities  which 
most  awaken  instinctive  admiration   and   self-subordination, 
particularly  prowess,  and  above  all  prowess  displayed  in  the 
defense  or  aggrandizement  of  the  group.     But  presently  the 
prestige  of  personal  prowess  degenerates  into  caste,  and  later 
wealth   becomes   the   chief   foundation    for   social   eminence. 
But  there  are  already  signs  that  here  also  reason  will  assert 
itself  and  reestablish  personal  qualities  as  the  basis  of  pres- 
tige,   not   those   qualities   of   personal   prowess   which   most 
strongly  appeal  to  instinct,  but  those  qualities  of  character 
and  achievement  which  appeal  to  reason.     As  Spencer  was 
the   great   spokesman   of   the  transition   from  militarism  to 
industrialism   so   Professor   Veblen   may   be   regarded    as   a 
spokesman  of  the  transition  from  the  social  ideals  of  indus- 
trial individualism  to  those  of  social  service. 

5.  The  economic  life  of  society  at  first  was  in  a  large 
degree  communistic  and  secured  a  fair  distribution  of  food; 
none  could  starve  while  others  waxed  fat.     But  the  second 
stage,   that  of  random  vagaries,  allows  great  disparities  in 
wealth  and  poverty,  and  so  organizes  the  control  of  society 
as  to  render  those  disparities  largely  self-perpetuating  and 
self-intensifying.    But  there  is  some  justification  for  the  belief 
that  reason  will  so  assert  itself  as  to  restore,  not  instinctive 
communism  and  economic  equality,  but  a  rational  distribu- 
tion of  wealth  and  of  economic  opportunity,  and  a  universal 


574  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

supply  of  the  necessaries  for  a  decent  standard  of  living  among 
all  normal  members  of  society. 

6.  The  earliest  economic  organization  is  not  individualistic 
but  cooperative  practically  always  where  there  is  an  enter- 
prise large  enough  to  call  for  cooperation.    During  the  period 
of  random  vagaries  the  principal  of  cooperation  in  the  interest 
of  all  the  participants  in  industry  is  lost  to  view.     Finally,  if 
reason,  which  regards  all  the   facts  and  interests  involved, 
ever  molds  our  industrial  order,  it  may  succeed  in  establishing 
an  industrial  system  more  democratic  in  its  aims  and  even 
in  the  method  of  its  direction  and  control. 

7.  Morality    is    originally    instinctive,    the    expression    of 
sympathy,    altruism,   and   partisanship   in   personal    relations 
within  the  group.    But  morality  also  has  its  period  of  random 
vagaries,  in  which  relations  are  formed  between  individuals 
and  classes  in  which  the  instinctive  controls  do  not  function ; 
and  exploitation,  and   cruelty  are  practiced  with  no  protest 
from  the  social  instincts.    But  moral  evolution  through  the  ra- 
tional interpretation  of  experience,  by  the  folk-sense,  and  the 
insight  of  the  elite,  defines  and  extends  the  application  of 
ethical  sentiments  until  morality  establishes  over  the  extended 
relationships  of  civilized  society  a  control  which  is  as  definite 
and,  in  its  applications  if  not  in  its  strength,  as  adequate  to 
the  needs  of  the  case  as  the  instinctive  good  nature  that  pre- 
vails within  a  savage  horde. 

8.  Peace  within  the  primitive  group  is  established  by  the 
social  instincts.     Savages  are  not  savage  to  their  own  clans- 
folk.     But  during  the  second  period,  the  period  of  evolution, 
through  random  experiment  and  natural  selection,  in  this  case 
very  long,  inter-group  relations  play  a  great  role,  and  in  these 
relations  the  social  instincts  provide  no  basis  for  order.    The 
establishment  of  group  expectations  and  inter-group  conven- 
tions  that   shall   serve    for  the   maintenance   of   inter-group 
order  is  perhaps  the  most  difficult  social  task  of  reason.    But 
if  reason  ever  has  its  way  in  this  sphere  of  human  action 
it  will  extend  the  application  of  ethical  sentiments  to  inter- 
national relations,  as  it  has  done  and  still  is  doing  with  refer- 
ence to  the  wider  and  more  impersonal  relations  within  the 


EXAMPLES  OF  SOCIAL  EVOLUTION  575 

group;  then  group  peace  will  extend  so  as  to  include  the 
brotherhood  of  humanity. 

9.  Crime,  or  infraction  of  the  group  code  of  custom  or 
of  formal  law,  at  first  is  treated  with  severity  dictated  by 
instinctive   vengeance.     Later   sentimentality,   the   realization 
that  the  criminal  is  often  the  victim  of  unfortunate  heredity 
and  social  environment,  and  a  clutter  of  legal  provisions  in- 
tended to  qualify  the  evil  of  ancient  usages  that  society  could 
not  make  up  its  mind  entirely  to  abolish,  largely  replaced  the 
prompt  certainty  of  instinctive  vengeance  with  weakness  and 
delay  and  uncertainty.     In  the  third  stage  of  development 
reason  will  seek  to  restore  the  swiftness  and  certainty  and 
necessary  severity  of  the  law,  together  with  intelligent  discrim- 
ination between  the   treatment  demanded  by  the  individual 
character  of  criminals.  Thus  the  prompt  efficiency  of  instinct, 
which  in  the  second  stage  is  bewildered  by  new  conditions 
and  groping  reason,  in  the  third  stage  would  be  replaced  by  a 
promptness  and  efficiency  dictated  by  the  definite  conclusions 
of  maturer  knowledge. 

10.  The  daily  life  of  the  savage  "is  a  ritual."     Among 
barbarians  the  details  of  conduct,  the  forms  of  everyday  ob- 
jects, 'and  the  character  of  dress  and  ornament  are  dictated 
by  long-established  custom.    In  the  second  or  mutating  period 
of  social  evolution  the  more  superficial  aspects  of  common 
things  and  ways  are  subject  to  a  perfect  riot  and  dissolution 
of  successive  fashions.     But  after  the  possibilities  of  inven- 
tion have  been  somewhat  exhausted,  fashions  have  repeated 
themselves  in  cycles,   rational  eclecticism  has   identified  the 
most  practical,  and  developed  canons  of  taste  have  recog- 
nized the  most  beautiful,  we  may  replace  the  constant  mean- 
ingless changes  of  fashion  by  a  new  custom  era.   It  will  not  be 
rigid  and  bigoted  custom,  it  will  allow  for  variety  according 
to  personal  convenience  and  taste,  but  will  avoid  the  colossal 
wastes  of  fashion,  and  will  preserve  chosen  forms,  instead 
of  an  endless   succession  of   forms  that  have  no  claim  to 
superiority  to  justify  their  existence. 

n.    Simplicity   characterizes   the   practical   arts   and   the 
conduct  of  life  among  primitive  peoples,  a  simplicity  which 


576  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

results  partly  from  poverty  of  ideas  and  partly  from  practical 
directness  of  method  dictated  by  necessity.  After  the  period 
of  extreme  and  ever-increasing  complexity,  it  may  be  that 
there  will  be  restored  to  life  a  simplicity  which  is  rational 
and  due  to  the  choice  of  the  best  out  of  many  offered  modes 
of  action;  as  the  analytic  languages  largely  escape  from  the 
intricacies  of  inflection,  and  as  modern  Roman  type  sloughing 
off  the  flourishes  of  medieval  copyists  and  engravers  returns 
to  a  form  closely  resembling  the  simplicity  of  the  first  Phoeni- 
cian alphabet. 

12.  The  intellectual  life  of  early  man  is  fixed  and  estab- 
lished in  tradition  and  authority.    The  second  stage  of  social 
development  is  full  of  intellectual  uncertainty.    Every  thinker 
speculates    for   himself.      Systems   of   philosophy   clash   and 
though  many  are  convinced,  they  are  convinced  without  gen- 
eral agreement.     But  as  science  removes  one  problem  after 
another  from  the  realm  of  speculation  and  adds  its  solution 
to  the  body  of  our  knowledge,  and  education  popularizes  these 
results,  Although  from  the  intellectual  elevation  reached  we 
may  see  upon  the  wide  horizon  of  our  knowledge  more  un- 
settled problems  than  ever  appeared  before,  yet  we  shall  have 
a  basis  of  relative  certainty  and  general  agreement,  not  the 
dogmatic   certainty  of  ignorant  tradition,   but  a  substantial 
island  of  firm  common  standing  ground  in  the  ocean  of  the 
unknown. 

13.  That  effect  of  biological  necessity  which  is  termed 
"natural    selection"    undoubtedly   plays    its    part   vigorously 
among  the  population  of  little  developed  societies.     But  later 
it  is  thwarted  by  scientific  methods  of  prolonging  the  life  of 
the  feeble.    A  large  proportion  of  civilized  women  would  die 
in  their  first  attempt  at  motherhood  if  under  savage  condi- 
tions.   In  a  variety  of  ways  civilization  appears  to  be  counter- 
selective.     But  here  again  reason  is  seeking  to  step  in  and 
to  apply  scientific  knowledge  in  a  eugenic  program.     And 
though  natural  selection  no  longer  gives  us  a  highly  selective 
death  rate,  eugenics  may  do  something  toward  giving  us  a 
selective  birth  rate.    The  very  fact  that  the  most  intelligent  and 
idealistic  will  be  most  affected  by  the  agitation  to  establish 


EXAMPLES  OF  SOCIAL  EVOLUTION  577 

a  genesic  conscience  may  secure  an  increase  in  the  proportion 
of  births  from  such  parents. 

Such  considerations  will  have  interest  rather  than  solid 
value,  unless  they  are  strictly  confined  to  tracing  a  tendency 
which  can  be  discerned  in  the  facts  of  the  present  and  the  past. 


PART   IV 
SOCIAL  CONTROL 


CHAPTER   XXXI 
THE  PROBLEM  AND  PRINCIPLES  OF  SOCIAL  CONTROL1 

The  Necessity  of  Social  Control. — In  our  previous  discussion 
we  have  treated  social  realities  as  natural  phenomena  molded 
by  causal  conditions  like  other  products  of  nature  and  cul- 
minating in  a  "natural  social  order"  which  is  a  largely  spon- 
taneous correlation  between  prevalent  sentiments,  current 
ideas,  customs,  institutions,  individuals,  sects,  parties,  •  func- 
tional groups,  and  societies,  each  and  all  of  which  are  nat- 
ural products  of  social  evolution.  But  although  social  realities 
are  as  really  products  of  nature  as  plants  or  animals,  yet  we 
cannot  tell  the  whole  truth  about  them  without  recognizing 
how  conscious  intentions,  themselves  products  of  natural  social 
evolution,  become  united  with  the  other  elements  in  social 
evolution,  so  that  social  activities  came  to  be  like  domesticated 
animals  and  the  social  situation  to  resemble  not  a  jungle  but 
a  garden. 

Men  might  live  together  in  a  simple  and  barbarous  social 
order  produced  entirely  without  design.  Sociability  or 
pleasure  in  the  presence  of  our  kind,  and  the  "we"  feeling 
or  partisanship  which  unites  every  permanent  homogeneous 
group  against  all  outsiders  with  a  powerful  sentimental 
bond,  are  naturally  selected  traits  of  the  human  creature, 
and  the  group  unity  which  they  cement  is  primitive  man's 
most  powerful  defense  against  hostile  beasts  and  hostile  men. 
Even  animals  show  these  feelings  and  also  the  higher  quality 
of  altruism  and  mutual  helpfulness.  And  the  group  of  primi- 
tive men  in  which  the  members  helped  each  other  most  effec- 
tively would  tend  on  that  account  to  lose  fewer  of  its  mem- 
bers by  misfortune,  to  come  through  famines  and  other  crises 

1The  subject  of  social  control  has  received  classic  treatment  in 
the  work  of  that  title  by  Professor  Edward  Alsworth  Ross. 

581 


582  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

less  reduced,  to  increase,  and  to  drive  out  or  exterminate  the 
alien  groups  of  less  sympathetic  human  beasts  with  which  it 
came  in  contact.  By  this  process  nascent  humanity  became 
increasingly  humane.  The  natural  sentiment  of  anger  and 
craving  for  revenge  has  also  contributed  largely  to  primitive 
social  order.  It  was  not  worth  while  for  the  strong  to  carry 
robbery  and  abuse  of  the  weak  too  far.  If  the  weak  were 
sufficiently  angered,  though  he  died  for  it  he  would  have  his 
vengeance,  and  the  pleasure  or  gain  of  abusing  him  was  not 
worth  the  trouble.  Besides  anger  can  bide  its  time  and  lurk, 
and  the  strongest,  if  hated  by  many  weak,  would  lead  a  com- 
fortless and  perilous  life  in  the  clan.  By  virtue  of  these 
natural  human  traits  savages  commonly  live  in  a  degree  of 
sociability,  good  fellowship,  and  mutual  helpfulness  often 
described  as  on  the  whole  equal  to  that  of  civilized  com- 
munities. 

But  while  the  natural  traits  of  sociability,  partisan  loyalty, 
altruism,  anger,  and  sense  of  justice,  suffice  to  maintain  a 
tolerable  state  of  society  in  primitive  groups,  they  do  not 
answer  that  purpose  in  a  developed  civilization.  This  failure 
is  due  mainly  to  the  short-sightedness  of  the  social  instincts. 
They  vary  in  efficiency  inversely  as  the  square  of  thedistance. 
To  speak  literally  they  naturally  depend  upon  immediate  sense- 
perception  or  at  least  upon  vivid  ideation  of  the  good  to  be 
sought  and  of  the  evil  to  be  shunned  or  abated,  and  upon 
direct  and  obvious  causal  connection  between  the  result,  and 
the  conduct  by  which  the  result  is  produced.  In  the  complex 
life  of  developed  societies  conduct  often  has  results  that  are 
not  direct  but  remote,  and  the  causal  connection  between  action 
and  its  consequences  is  not  always  obvious  but  may  be  ob- 
scure. The  most  momentous  consequences  are  often  unin- 
tended, but  none  the  less  to  be  reckoned  with,  and  they  fall 
upon  victims  so  remote  from  the  personal  observation  of  the 
actors  that  no  sympathy  is  stirred  by  their  suffering  and  no 
instinctive  benevolence  is  awakened  by  the  sense  of  their  pos- 
sible advantage.  Thus  the  dairy  owner  whom  nothing  could 
induce  to  strangle  with  his  own  hands  a  single  helpless  baby, 
yet  slaughters  innocents  like  Herod,  because  he  does  not  see 


PRINCIPLES  OF  SOCIAL  CONTROL  583 

the  suffering  of  those  babies  or  their  mothers  and  does  not 
clearly  see  and  can  refuse  to  admit  the  relation  between  his 
conduct  and  their  death.  Real-estate  promoters  who  on  no 
account  would  turn  their  hands  to  murder,  offer  for  rental, 
tenements  whose  character  doubles  the  death  rate  among  the 
tenants,  and  resist  laws  that  would  prevent  deadly  and  con- 
tagious diseases.  For  the  same  reason  the  passage  of  laws 
for  the  safeguarding  of  machinery  and  industrial  processes, 
that  would  annually  prevent  untold  suffering  and  many  deaths, 
has  until  recently  been  generally  resisted  by  employers,  and 
kind  fathers  and  mothers  have  opposed  the  passage  of  laws 
against  destructive  child  labor.  Protective  legislation  in  gen- 
eral when  once  passed  has  been  peculiarly  difficult  to  enforce. 
The  trust  magnate  who  is  lavishly  generous  to  his  coachman 
and  to  all  those  with  whom  he  has  personal  relations  and 
who  could  not  imagine  himself  stealing  the  stocking  hoard  of 
a  workman  or  teacher  or  small  tradesman,  ruins  the  weak  by 
the  heartless  use  of  inside  information  and  by  the  "manipula- 
tion" of  the  value  of  securities  into  which  other  men  have  put 
the  painfully  accumulated  savings  on  which  their  hopes  de- 
pend. The  corrupt  politician  who  makes  the  passage  and 
enforcement  of  good  laws  difficult,  who  undermines  the  very 
foundations  on  which  the  health,  prosperity  and  welfare  of 
society  so  largely  rest,  is  frequently  a  "big-hearted  good  fel- 
low" who  does  not  have  to  counterfeit  the  cordiality  which 
he  expresses  to  the  people  of  his  ward  or  to  the  acquaintances 
he  makes  in  his  district,  who  distributes  Christmas  turkeys  and 
corrupt  "favors"  with  a  pleasurable  sense  of  generosity,  and 
is  intensely  loyal  to  the  partisans  of  his  own  gang. 

This  is  the  application  of  the  principle  previously  stated 
that  the  social  instincts  have  been  developed,  and  have  their 
characteristic  sphere  of  operation  within  "personal  groups." 
But  in  civilized  society  we  are  bound  together  interdependently 
in  cities,  states,  and  nations  which  are  far  too  vast  to  be 
personal  groups.  Relationships  in  developed  societies  are 
largely  impersonal,  and  the  most  serious  consequences  of  con- 
duct are  largely  remote,  deferred  and  in  any  given  instance 
problematical.  Large-scale  sinning  is  apt  to  be  long-range 


584  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

sinning,  from  which  the  native  sentiments  do  not  adequately 
deter.1  4 

While  we  thus  see  that  instinct  fails  to  repress  the  con- 
duct that  is  most  harmful  to  developed  societies  it  is  even  more 
essential  to  observe  the  additional  fact  that  instinct  fails  to 
elicit  the  conduct  that  is  most  necessary  to  the  welfare  and 
progress  in  developed  societies.  The  fundamental  social  du- 
ties of  the  member  of  an  advanced  society  are  largely  of  the 
sort  in  which  his  single  act  produces  no  visible  result  but  is 
only  one  of  a  multitude  of  similar  acts  all  of  which  are  neces- 
sary in  order  to  produce  a  result  far  larger  than  individual 
endeavor  can  compass.  This  cooperation  which  is  essential 
in  civilized  society  is  not  secured  by  untaught  native  sentiment. 

The  social  emotions  perform  an  inestimable  service  in 
sweetening  personal  relationships  within  the  family,  the  clan, 
the  circle  of  friendship,  and  they  are  also  the  foundation  for 
that  larger  virtue  which  has  power  to  prevent  the  monstrous 
destruction  of  life's  values  which  is  invited  by  our  organized 
interdependence  in  higher  societies,  as  well  as  power  to  elicit 
the  cooperation  upon  which  waits  the  fulfillment  of  the  mighty 
^possibilities  of  good  which  such  organization  creates.  The 
problem  of  civilization  is  to  secure  a  virtue  which  is  moved 
and  guided,  not  merely  by  the  consequences  of  conduct  which 
immediate  sense-perception  recognizes,  but  also  by  the  vaster 
consequences  which  instructed  reason  discerns. 

Even  in  the  simple  relationships  of  savage  society  the  social 

*In  the  foregoing  statement  lies  one  of  the  fundamental  objections 
to  philosophical  anarchism.  The  other  is  contained  in  the  discussion 
of  private  vengeance,  on  pages  611  and  following.  The  philosophical 
anarchist  would  leave  the  maintenance  of  social  order  and  justice  to 
the  operation  of  individual  instincts.  This  might  result  in  a  nearer 
approach  to  justice  than  has  existed  under  some  of  the  worst  des- 
potisms. It  does  secure  a  rude  approach  to  justice  in  small  and  un- 
differentiated  societies.  But  few,  if  any,  save  those  who  are  influ- 
enced by  revulsion  against  the  severer  forms  of  tyranny,  have  faith 
in  the  rule  of  instinct  or  "natural  order,"  in  a  vast  and  highly  evolved 
society.  In  government,  as  elsewhere,  the  rule  of  instinct  furnishes 
the  prototype  of  which  the  rule  of  reason  is  the  riper  counterpart, 
according  to  the  law  (if  law  it  be)  of  the  three  stages  of  social  evolu- 
tion. Compare  paragraphs  3,  8  and  9  in  section  begun  on  page  571. 


PRINCIPLES  OF  SOCIAL  CONTROL  585 

instincts  do  not  provide  against  more  or  less  frequent  and 
destructive  outbreaks  of  the  individualistic  instincts.  And 
hence  we  see  idyllic  sociability  and  sympathy  side  by  side 
with  fiendish  acts ;  while  beyond  the  circle  of  partisanship 
cruelty  is  the  unchallenged  rule  of  conduct. 

Every  society  that  has  made  any  considerable  progress 
has  begun  to  cultivate  crops  or  otherwise  modify  material 
nature,  and  every  such  society  has  also  begun  to  modify  the. 
natural  social  order  by  elements  of  social  control.  In  an 
advanced  society  where  gigantic  opportunities  for  evil  invite 
destructive  conduct  from  which  no  instinctive  impulse  re- 
strains, where  inestimable  values  are  to  be  won  by  cooperative 
endeavor  to  which  no  instinctive  impulse  prompts,  where  there 
are  many  necessary  positions  of  trust,  each  with  its  own  de- 
mands upon  the  individual,  where  duties  and  also  privileges 
which  others  are  required,  to  respect  are  unequally  divided 
among  social  classes,  where  great  differences  in  wealth  are 
defended  and  made  secure,  the  turbulent  current  of  human 
impulse  is  dammed  up  or  redirected  by  dikes  and  channels 
that  have  been  laid  out  by  careful  engineering  and  that  require 
incessant  labor  to  keep  them  in  repair.  "We  are  prone  to 
forget  that  civilization  is  a  tour  de  force,  so  to  speak,  a  little 
hard-won  area  of  order  and  self-subordination  amidst  a  vast 
wilderness  of  anarchy  and  barbarism  that  are  with  difficulty 
held  in  check  and  are  continually  threatening  to  overrun  their 
bounds." *  In  times  of  peace  and  in  well-bred  society  the 
course  of  life  runs  on  so  smoothly  that  it  resembles  the  un- 
jarring  movement  of  the  earth  on  its  axis  and  in  its  orbit, 
and  it  may  never  occur  to  the  mind  that  cataclysmic  forces 
are  held  in  bonds  by  the  unremitting  gravitation  of  social 
control. 

The  Principles  of  Social  Control. — (a)  Tht  two  aspects  of 
social  reality.  Human  activity  must  be  judged  from  two 
standpoints :  first,  as  an  end;  second,  as  a  means^  First, 
considered  as  an  end,  conscious  activity  is  an  experience 
which  may  be  either  gobd  or  bad  in  itself ;  second,  considered 
as  a  means,  every  activity,  whether  it  be  knowing,  feeling, 

1  The  Unpopular  Review,  ii,  No.  3,  p.  132. 


586  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

or  overt  deed,  has  a  tendency  to  lead  to  further  experience, 
good  or  bad,  for  the  actor,  and  for  his  associates.  When 
viewed  with  reference,  not  to  its  value  as  an  end,  but  to  its 
effects  as  a  means,  activity  is  usually  called  either  "work" 
or  "conduct." 

The  ultimate  aim  of  social  control  and  of  all  rational  en- 
deavor is  to  secure  the  completest  and  most  harmonious  reali- 
zation of  good  human  experience,  regarded  as  an  end  in  itself. 
But  to  this  end  it  is  necessary  also  to  secure  good  conduct. 
The  purpose  of  social  control,  therefore,  is  to  prevent  activities 
which  do  not  bear  the  test  of  reason  and  to  elicit  those  which 
do  bear  that  test,  when  all  activity  is  judged  both  with  refer- 
ence to  its  own  intrinsic  value,  and  with  reference  to  its  total 
effect  upon  other  values,  that  is,  both  as  experience  and  as 
conduct.1 

(b)  The  two  types  of  social  .control.  In  its  pursuit  of 
this  aim  society  relies  upon  two  types  of  social  control :  first, 
control  by  sanctions;  second,  control  by_social  suggestion, 
sympathetic  radiation  and  imitation.  The  word  sanction  is 
here  used  in  the  legal  sense  of  proffered  reward  or  threatened 
punishment.  The  teacher  with  the  birch  rod  in  his  hand  con- 
trols by  sanction,  the  boy-scout  master  whom  the  young  scouts 
admiringly  imitate  controls  chiefly  or  wholly  by  the  second 
method.  The  effects  as  well  as  the  methods  of  the  two  forms 
of  control  are  in  two  respects  notably  different.  First,  sanc- 
tions elicit  or  repress  particular  actions  while  the  second  type 
of  control  is  adapted  to  establish  general  dispositions ;  second, 
the  former  is  control  from  without  while  the  latter  is  control 
that  is  adapted  to  become  enthroned  within  and  in  so  far  as 
reason  and  sentiment  adopt  the  principles  of  control  it  becomes 
not  a  law  of  bondage  but  a  law  of  liberty. 

The  Perversion  of  Social  Control. — Society  has  no  interests 
aside  from  the  interests  of  its  members.  "The  social  wel- 
fare," like  "the  social  mind"  is  only  a  figure  of  speech.  The 
fact  referred  to  by  that  phrase  is  that  the  permanent  wel- 
fare of  many  is  of  greater  importance  than  the  temporary 

1  Compare  article  by  present  writer  in  American  Journal  of  So- 
ciology, xviii,  p.  470. 


587 

welfare  of  a  single  one.  But  the  welfare  of  the  many  is 
not  secured  if,  on  the  whole,  the  welfare  of  individuals  is 
sacrificed.  Society  must  beware  of  hedging  in  the  activities 
of  its  members  with  avoidable  restrictions,  and  cramping 
their  minds  into  "safe"  but  sterile  courses.  It  must  elicit  the 
powers  of  its  members  and  emancipate  their  understand- 
ings. 

We  have  already  had  various  occasions  to  observe  that 
some  of  the  controlling  ideas  fostered  by  the  influential  are 
likely  to  be  those  which  maintain  the  existing  situation  and 
serve  the  purposes  of  the  ruling  class  rather  than  the  masses, 
and  also  that  ideas  arise  in  the  mind  in  response  to  the  need 
of  eliciting  or  repressing  conduct,  and  are  thereafter  believed 
and  disseminated  without  due  regard  for  their  truth,  and 
that,  in  a  degree  and  for  a  time,  a  society  may  even  be 
ennobled  by  errors  and  illusions.1  Of  this  the  extremist  and 
most  nai've  example  is  the  creed  held  by  Job's  comforters, 
and  many  since,  to  the  effect  that  the  good  man  cannot 
suffer  nor  the  wicked  man  prosper  in  this  world.  We  still 
have  our  cherished  illusions,  but  in  an  inquiring  age  we 
can  hardly  hope  permanently  to  maintain  a  control  by  illu- 
sions. We  may  as  well  strike  straight  and  boldly  at  jhe 
verities,  and  make  our  method  of  social  life  an  "adaptation" 
to  the  actual  conditions  of  existence. 

Success  or  failure  in  the  attempt  to  unite  control  with  en- 
lightenment will  depend  in  part  on  whether  men  will  be  ade- 
quately influenced  by  consideration  of  values  not  their  own,  so 
as  to  be  guided  in  conduct  by  some  regard  for  all  the  interests 
which  they  perceive  their  conduct  to  effect,  that  is  to  say 
it  depends  on  whether  reason  can  either  dominate  instinct,  or 
enlist  the  responses  of  instinct  in  service  of  wider  aims.  It 
depends  yet  more  upon  whether  the  sentiments  of  enthusiasm 
and  detestation  formed  in  the  minds  of  those  who  see  the 
remote  and  diffused  consequences  of  conduct,  and  imbibed 
during  untempted  youth,  and  approved  in  hours  of  calm" 
ness,  will  be  strong  enough  to  reenforce  reason  in  the  thick 
of  action.  It  depends  also  upon  whether  the  pressures  of 

1  Compare  Ross :   Social  Control,  p.  305  seq. 


588  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

social  approval  and  disapproval  will  'adequately  supplement 
private  conscience.  The  success  of  the  experiment  of  human 
society  depends  upon  converting  life  into  team  work — into  a 
cooperative  enterprise.  Fears  and  illusions  have  failed  to  bring 
this  about  save  to  a  very  limited  and  unsatisfactory  degree. 
The  world  is  inevitably  committed  to  the  experiment  of  uniting 
control  with  enlightenment. 

The  motives  of  enlightenment  are  not  yet  enshrined  in 
symbols,  shibboleths,  and  accepted  maxims  and  in  poetry, 
art  and  religion.  But  they  may  be  in  the  era  next  before 
us,  and  may  prove  the  method  of  a  nearer  approach  to  the 
fulfillment  of  possibilities  that  have  thus  far  seemed  always 
to  be  just  beyond  the  reach  of  human  attainment. 

Not  Law  But  Personality  Is  the  Ultimate  Basis  of  Social 
Order. — Without  in  the  least  underestimating  the  importance 
of  aiming  directly  at  the  repression  of  crime,  we  shall  see, 
if  we  correctly  apprehend  the  facts  of  social  life,  that  it  is 
far,  very  far,  more  important  to  raise  the  moral  grade  of 
those  who  never  go  to  prison.  Humanized  wants,  reliability, 
devotion  to  social  service,  and  freedom  from  perverting  egoism, 
would  not  only  secure  the  passage  and  enforcement  of  laws 
and  the  diminution  of  crime,  but  also  the  realization  of  the 
positive  aims  of  associative  activity — the  fulfillment  of  life's 
inestimable  possibilities  of  good.  Nothing  else  will  secure 
these  ends.  The  slow  dragging  centuries  will  continue  to 
drag  and  the  destiny  of  humanity  go  unfulfilled  in  spite 
of  all  the  progress  in  science  and  industry,  unless  there  be 
commensurate  progress  in  morality.  In  so  far  as  society 
creates  the  individual  it  must  create  individuals  who  possess 
the  traits  or  dispositions  which  experience  has  shown  to  be 
essential  to  the  general  welfare.  The  most  fundamental  task 
of  social  control  is  to  take  the  bundle  of  instincts  and  pro- 
pensities which  each  individual  brings  into  the  world  and  so 
cultivate  it  that  it  will  develop  into  a  disposition  to  those 
activities  which  will  yield  the  highest  correlation  between 
individual  satisfaction  and  social  service. 

The  First  of  the  Essential  Virtues — Reliability. — It  be- 
jiooves  us  to  inquire  what  are  the  essential  traits  in  such  a 


PRINCIPLES  OF  SOCIAL  CONTROL  589 

disposition.  There  may  be  numerous  traits  that  are  highly 
desirable  for  all  citizens,  and  particular  traits  which  are  useful 
in  particular  walks  of  life,  but  there  are  a  very  few  which 
age-long  experience  has  demonstrated  to  be  the  universal 
essentials. 

The  first  of  these  is  honesty  or  reliability.  It  is  possible 
for  a  society  to  prosper,  more  or  less,  where  there  is  much 
dishonesty,  provided  there  is  also  a  considerable  amount  of 
honesty,  but  the  degree  to  which  its  prosperity  and  advance- 
ment can  be  carried  will  depend  upon  the  degree  to  which 
honesty  preponderates  over  dishonesty,  reliability  over  unre- 
liability in  every  walk  of  life.  It  has  been  argued  by  a  dis- 
tinguished writer  that  lying,  under  exceptional  circumstances 
and  from  a  kind  motive,  is  justified.  But  if  the  rule  were 
once  adopted  that  one  may  lie  in  exceptional  cases  and  for 
a  kindly  purpose,  how  much  faith  could  we  put  in  pleasant 
words,  and  how  could  any  deep  anxiety  be  relieved  by  favor- 
able reports?  He  who  has  once  been  known  to  depart  from 
the  truth  has  impaired  the  credit  of  all  that  he  thereafter 
says.  The  more  need  he  has  of  credence  and  the  more  em- 
phatically he  asseverates  the  more  his  statements  are  likely 
to  be  discounted.  His  wdrds  are  like  the  blows  of  a  phantom, 
having  no  weight  or  substance.  The  man  who  has  the  courage 
to  speak  sincerely  where  a  person  of  loose  veracity  would 
have  equivocated  acquires  a  weight  which  nothing  else  can 
impart.  Honesty  or  reliability  while  it  is  largely  a  matter 
of  speaking  truth  is  quite  as  really  a  matter  of  acting  so  as 
to  make  our  promises  true — carrying  out  the  expectations 
which  others  have  been  given  reason  to  form  in  fulfilling 
promises,  both  those  which  have  been  written  or  verbally  ex- 
pressed and  those  which  have  been  implied.  The  doctrine 
of  "implied  contract"  which  runs  through  the  law,  runs  also 
through  life.  He  who  officially  counts  a  vote  is  pledged  in 
honor  to  count  it  as  it  was  cast;  he  who  assumes  a  position 
of  trust  or  engages  to  do  a  job  is  pledged  in  honor  to  the 
fulfillment  of  the  responsibility  assumed. 

The  average  normal  human  animal  is  born  with  a  tend- 
ency to  craft.  Sympathetic  feeling  may  keep  him  truthful 


590  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

in  most  of  his  dealings  with  his  own  pals  and  partisans,  and 
shrewdness  and  caution  will  make  him  economize  lies,  and 
native  sense  of  moral  beauty  and  ugliness  may  cause  him  more 
or  less  to  prefer  truth  to  deceit  where  he  is  disinterested. 
But  seldom,  if  ever,  is  one  adequately  equipped  by  nature  with 
honesty,  in  the  sense  of  detestation  for  falseness  as  such, 
when  it  is  advantageous,  or  zeal  for  truth  in  dealing  with 
those  whom  he  is  trying  to  beat  in  a  game  or  an  election  or 
one  with  whom  he  is  driving  a  bargain  or  even  at  the  cost  of 
comfort  and  convenience,  especially  if  dealing  with  a  stranger. 
And  yet  a  splendid  "sense  of  honor"  can  somewhat  readily 
be  acquired.  The  problem  is  to  communicate  to  the  young 
by  sympathetic  radiation,  a  sense  of  honor  which  their  elders 
already  have  acquired,  just  as  language  which  is  native  to 
no  one  is  the  social  heritage  of  normal  children  who  grow 
up  in  a  developed  society. 

Control  of  Animalism. — The  second  of  the  traits  which  ex- 
perience has  shown  to  be  essential  to  proper  membership  in 
a  developed  society  is  the  Control  of  animalism.  Every  nor- 
mal human  being  has  certain  appetites  in  common  with  the 
animals.  These  are  not  evil  in  themselves  but  necessary.  Men 
must  eat  and  drink  and  rest  if  they  are  to  live,  and  they  must 
propagate  if  society  is  to  continue.  But  man  has  learned  to 
pervert  the  natural  impulses  with  intoxicants  and  with  sexual 
indulgence  which  is  not  confined  to  a  breeding  season  or  to 
mating  as  with  wild  beasts,  nor  by  the  requirements  of  social 
experience.  And  man  is  adapted  for  other  satisfactions  which 
are  capable  of  indefinitely  greater  prolongation  and  of  inesti- 
mable value,  but  which  will  be  forfeited  and  destroyed  unless 
the  animal  propensities  are  confined  within  the  limits  set  by  a 
social  order  which  experience  has  shown  to  be  necessary. 
Though  passion  may  clamor  against  the  verdict,  the  experi- 
ence of  the  race  has  proved,  if  anything  in  life  is  proved, 
that  the  highest  happiness  of  individuals  and  the  welfare  of 
society  require  the  monogamous  family,  built  on  mutual  love 
and  trust,  and  the  limitation  of  sexual  indulgence  by  either 
sex  within  the  bounds  of  wedlock.  Moreover,  there  must  be 
no  need  of  zenana  walls,  but  men  and  women  must  have 


PRINCIPLES  OF  SOCIAL  CONTROL  591 

acquired  an  honor  that  can  be  trusted  in  free  association. 
The  male,  who  in  youth  may  understand  far  better  than  the 
female  the  nature  of  the  impulses  involved,  should  have  a 
sense  of  honor  which  makes  him  the  defender  of  innocence 
against  the  perilous  advances  that  lead  toward  the  slippery 
incline  which  ends  in  an  abyss. 

The  multitudes  who  escape  this  peril  do  so  not  by  a  gift 
of  nature  but  by  virtue  of  an  acquired  trait,  a  sentiment 
stronger  'than  instinct,  inculcated  by  society,  as  a  result  of 
countless  bitter  lessons.  Though  in  well-reared  characters 
the  defenses  are  built  so  high  and  strong,  still  society  must 
rebuild  them  with  every  generation ;  because  desire  for 
physical  pleasure  is  so  strong  and  because  social  tolerance 
can  make  anything  seem  right.  Every  society  has  still  some 
customs  that  are  like  low  weak  places  in  the  dikes. 

The  Third  Essential  Trait. — The  third  essential  trait  of 
civilized  man  is  steadiness  in  endeavor.  The  savage  and  the 
child  tire  quickly  of  work.  Work  requires  as  much  courage 
and  grit  as  war  and  is  less  prompted  by  instinct  than  war. 
Not  to  flinch  before  an  uninviting  task  when  there  is  a  good 
reason  for  doing  it,  to  order  time  and  things  and  errant  im- 
pulses, is  a  power  which  society  has  to  impart  to  its  youthful 
members  by  example  and  training,  a  process  in  which  it  is 
necessary  to  enlist  the  resolute  cooperation  of  those  who  are 
in  the  process  of  their  education.  For  lack  of  this  acquired 
power  we  have  an  army  of  slovens,  paupers,  ne'er-do-wells, 
tramps,  criminals,  ruined  sons  of  rich  fathers,  and  gifted 
failures. 

The  Social  Spirit. — The  fourth  and  the  -  last  to  be  here 
enumerated  of  the  traits  which  are  indispensable  qualifications 
in  the  members  of  a  developed  society  is  justice  or  "the  social 
spirit/'  **The  word  "justice"  is  consciously  applied  both  to  a 
subjective  trait  and  to  the  conduct  in  which  that  trait  is  ex- 
pressed. Justice  is  conduct  guitied  by  reason  as  distinguished 
from  conduct  guided  merely  by  instinctive  impulses.  The 
reasoning  which  is  the  foundation  of  justice  has  for  its  major 
premise  the  fact  that  the  values  of  life  are  real  by  whom- 
soever experienced;  they  are  real  not  only  in  the  experience 

£&rxa*v^w*^^ 


592  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

of  the  actor  and  the  actor's  family  and  partisans,  but  also 
in  the  experience  of  persons  entirely  outside  his  habitual  "we." 
Instinct  and  sentiment  have  been  prone  to  act  often  as  if 
suffering  and  joy,  ruin  and  fulfillment  were  not  realities  to 
be  taken  into  account  when  they  were  in  the  experience  of 
persons  of  another  nation;  often,  likewise,  when  they  were 
in  the  experience  of  persons  in  the  same  nation  but  of  an- 
other social  class,  sect,  or  party,  and  often  even  when  they 
were  in  the  experience  of  persons  in  the  same  nation,  sect, 
and  party  but  not  in  one's  own  family.  We  have  in  fact  been 
prone  to  ignore  the  reality  of  these  values  when  they  were 
in  the  experience  of  persons  in  one's  own  family  but  not  in 
one's  very  own  experience. 

The  Reasonableness  of  Good  Conduct. — The  "golden  rule" 
does  not  mean  that  we  should  feel  the  same  instinctive  prompt- 
ing to  act  in  the  interest  of  others  that  we  have  to  act  in  our 
own,  but  it  means  that  life  in  society  cannot  be  lived  on  a 
merely  instinctive  level.  It  means  that  we  should  estimate 
at  par  the  values  of  every  life  we  touch.  Our  responsibility 
for  those  values  is  in  proportion  to  our  power  -over  them. 
One's  power  over  his  own  life  is  greater  than  over  any  other, 
and  his  responsibility  to  realize  the  joy  and  worth  of  his 
own  life  is  proportionally  greatest.  One's  power  over  the 
lives  of  his  own  family  is  normally  vastly  greater  than  over 
the  lives  of  any  other  persons,  and  his  responsibility  for 
them  proportionally  greater.  But  his  responsibility  for  all  the 
human  interests  that  he  does  or  can  affect,  though  not  so 
great,  is  just  as  real  and  is  proportionate  to  his  power  over 
them.  The  demand  of  reason  is  that  he  should  so  spend  his 
energies  as  to  produce  the  greatest  net  increase  of  human 
values,  whether  those  values  are  realized  in  his  own  experience 
or  in  the  experience  of  others. 

This  is  the  "law  of  sacrifice."  There  is  no  virtue  in  sac- 
rifice for  its  own  sake.  No  one  has  any  right  to  engage  in 
conduct  which  on  the  whole  is  a  sacrifice  of  human  values,  and 
for  that  very  reason  it  will  at  times  be  his  reasonable  duty 
to  prefer  his  own  greater  future  good  to  the  indulgence  of 
the  moment,  and  to  prefer  the  greater  good  of  the  group  to 


PRINCIPLES  OF  SOCIAL  CONTROL  593 

the  lesser  good  of  himself.  The  soldier  does  not  die  for  the 
sake  of  death  but  for  the  sake  of  life,  the  life  of  his  nation. 
No  reasonable  being  is  asked  to  sacrifice  for  the  sake  of 
sacrifice  but  for  the  sake  of  the  joy  and  worth  of  other  time 
or  other  lives,  or  for  the  prevention  of  evil  greater  than  the 
hurt  of  the  sacrifice. 

It  has  been  argued  by  certain  writers  with  great  emphasis"1 
and  eloquence  that  duty,  and  especially  sacrifice,  cannot  be 
supported  by  reason,  that  if  reason  were  the  sole  guide  every 
actor  would  regard  only  the  values  to  be  realized  in  his  own 
experience,  and  life  would  be  a  warfare  of  unmitigated  in- 
dividualism. Some  have  added  that  life  ought  to  be  such  a 
warfare  and  others  that  we  ought  to  depend  upon  the  guid- 
ance of  some  transcendental  faculty  which  sanctions  sacrifice 
and  duty.  But  the  real  trouble  is,  not  that  reason  denies  the 
interests  of  others,  but  that  instinct  disregards  them.  Reason 
admits  that  the  interests  of  others  are,  if  not  as  important  to 
me,  at  least  as  important  to  others  and  as  real  as  my  own,  and 
if  so  then  to  disregard  them  entirely  is  unreasonable  to  the 
extent  of  disregarding  some  of  the  facts  of  the  case,  facts 
which  even  instinct  by  no  means  entirely  disregards.  It  is 
not  impartial  reason  but  the  extremest  of  all  biases  that  allows 
one  to  act  as  if  a  part  of  the  interests  affected  by  his  conduct 
had  no  reality.  If  reason  is  allowed  to  speak  it  affirms  that 
all  the  interests  which  one  affects  have  equal  reality  though 
not  an  equal  appeal  to  impulse. 

Reasoned  justice  includes  every  virtue.  It  is  not  only 
negative,  forbidding  the  infliction  of  injuries,  it  is  positive, 
summoning  every  human  being  to  promote  every  interest  that 
he  can  affect  in  the  exact  measure  of  its  worth,  except  as 
he  is  excused  from  promoting  some  interests  by  the  fact  that 
his  net  contribution  to  human  welfare  will  be  increased  by 
applying  his  powers  in  the  promotion  of  certain  particular 
interests  rather  than  in  attempting  the  promotion  of  all  in- 
terests and  in  the  promotion  of  tHose  which  in  the  long  run 
and  in  the  sum  total  he  can  most  affect  rather  than  of  those 
which  he  can  affect  less.  It  allows  no  man  to  form  his  ambi- 
tion with  indifference  to  the  social  effect  of  his  conduct. 


594  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

It  summons  each  of  us  to  subordinate  his  own  interest  when- 
ever by  so  doing  he  can  secure  the  realization  of  other  interests 
which  in  their  sum  are  greater.  This  justice  is  honesty  which 
is  willing  to  admit  the  facts  of  life  and  to  acknowledge  the 
effects  of  our  own  conduct.  It  is  fair  play  which  is  willing 
to  abide  by  the  laws  which  we  try'  to  enforce  upon  others. 
Its  rule  is:  I  for  one  will  so  play  my  part  that  if  all  played 
their  part  in  the  same  spirit  the  good  possibilities  of  society 
would  be  fulfilled.1  When  the  declaration  of  reason  evokes 
response  of  sentiment  it  becomes  "the  social  spirit"  which 
would  make  of  human  life  one  vast  cooperative  enterprise  in 
which  each  participant,  while  receiving  from  society  a  million 
times  more  than  he  can  repay,  is  not  indifferent  to  fulfilling 
his  own  share  of  the  common  work.  This  is  that  love  which 
is  "the  greatest  thing  in  the  world,"  and  "the  fulfilling  of 
the  law." 

It  seems  to  be  a  law  of  evolution  that  the  highest  traits 
develop  last;  in  ethics  society  has  not  yet  fully  reached  the 
"culture  stage"  of  evolution.  But  individuals  have  already 
reached  this  stage,  and  have  demonstrated  that  it  is  not  beyond 
human  attainment.  The  line  between  the  sheep  and  the  goats, 
the  good  citizen  and  the  bad,  is  the  sincere  adoption  of  this 
ideal  rule  as  the  guide  of  life.  This  is  the  ethical  ideal  of 
Christ  and  of  all  the  great  prophets  of  the  most  advanced 
civilizations. 

The  requirements  of  justice  seem  categorical;  that  is,  they 
seem  to  be  arbitrary  commands  rather  than  conclusions  of 
reason,  because  at  the  moment  when  one  must  obey  he  is 
often  incapable  of  the  reasoning  that  justifies  them.  In  the 
heat  of  the  occasion  short-sighted  views,  immediate  interests, 
urgent  desires  that  inhibit  countervailing  reflection,  fill  up  the 
attention.  No  man  is  fit  for.  life  who  has  not  some  settled 

1  This  is  the  principle  of  Kant :  "In  all  cases  I  must  act  in  such  a 
way  that  I  can  at  the  same  time  will  that  my  maxim  should  become  a 
universal  law."  Kant  based  this  requirement  upon  the  majesty  of  an 
(abstract  conception.  We  base  it  upon  the  law  of  cause  and  effect  work- 
ing out  matter-of-fact  results  in  human  experience.  "The  Philosophy 
of  Kant,  as  Contained  in  Selections  from  His  Own  Writings,"  selected 
and  translated  by  John  Watson.  Macmillan,  1894,  P-  23°- 


PRINCIPLES  OF  SOCIAL  CONTROL  595 

principles  that  will  guide  him  in  the  thick  of  action,  even 
though  impulse  for  the  moment  blinds  him  to  the  justice  of 
these  principles,  and  he  chafes  against  their  control. 

The  five  principal  agencies  of  social  control  are :  (i)  law, 
institutionalized  in  the  state;  (2)  religion,  institutionalized  in 
the  church;  (3)  education,  institutionalized  in  the  family  and 
the  school;  (4)  public  opinion,  institutionalized  in  moral  codes 
and  the  press;  (5)  art,  ceremony,  and  manners.  It  will  be 
observed  that  the  great  institutions  of  society  except  the  eco- 
nomic institutions  are  agencies  of  control.  This  is  in  accord- 
ance with  the  fact  that  the  great  means  of  welfare  are  twos 
namely:  first,  wealth;  and  second,  human  conduct.  And  the 
task  of  securing  the  necessary  body  of  adapted  and  correlated 
activity  is  even  greater  and  more  difficult  than  the  task  of 
producing  sufficient  wealth. 


CHAPTER   XXXII 
CRIME  AND    ITS   CAUSES 

The  Law  as  an  Agency  of  Social  Control. — Law  attempts 
to  control  by  sanctions  and  in  practice  its  sanctions  are  nearly 
always  penalties  and  not  rewards.  So  long  as  this  is  true, 
the  law  is  serviceable  for  the  repression  of  conduct  that  is 
socially  condemned,  rather  than  for  eliciting  serviceable  con- 
duct. It  is  easy  and  cheap  to  inflict  pain  and  deprivation, 
but  it  is  by  no  means  impossible  to  grant  inexpensive  rewards, 
?  especially  in  the  form  of  distinctions  such  as  significant  badges 
'  and  titles.  Distinctions  appeal  to  one  of  the  deepest  interests 
of  human  nature,  which  is  a  natural  fulcrum  for  social  con- 
trol. And  the  gratification  of  this  instinct  is  to  nearly  all 
human  beings  one  of  the  greatest  possible  sources  of  satis- 
faction. Meritorious  conduct  in  war  has  long  been  recog- 
nized by  medals  and  rank,  but  for  promoting  peaceful  achieve- 
ment this  means  has  thus  far  been  little  utilized.  We  have 
been  so'obsessed  with  our  notion  of  the  power  of  the  economic 
motive  that  we  have  comparatively  overlooked  another  spring 
of  action  which  is  apt  to  move  all  normal  men  from  the  savage, 
who  after  his  most  elementary  needs  for  food  and  warmth 
have  been  rudely  satisfied  can  with  difficulty  be  stirred  to 
action  by  purely  economic  motive  but  who  will  endure  any 
toil  and  sell  his  life  in  struggling  for  the  glory  of  taking 
scalps,  to  the  modern  millionaire,  who  with  every  material 
want  satisfied,  still  sacrifices  other  pleasures,  his  health,  and 
sometimes  life  itself  to  keep  his  place  in  the  race  for  success. 

Penal  law  is  a  deterrent  and  compelling  agency  of  im- 
mense usefulness  and  with  long  experience  it  has  been  adapted 
to  the  compulsion  of  not  a  few  necessary  actions  as  well 
as  to  the  repression  of  a  great  number  of  objectionable 
actions.  It  is  the  strong  indispensable  outwork  of  social  de- 

59* 


CRIME  AND  ITS  CAUSES  597 

fense.  If  only  one  in  twenty  obeyed  the  law  from  fear  of 
penalty  yet  so  small  a  proportion,  if  set  free  from  all  restraint, 
would  be  enough  to  inaugurate  a  reign  of  anarchy. 

Vice,  Sin,  Immorality,  Tort  and  Crime. — Vice  is  action  in- 
jurious to  the  actor  and  offset  by  no  social  gains;  it  brings 
its  own  penalty  according  to  the  natural  operation  of  the  laws 
of  cause  and  effect.  It  is  seldom  injurious  to  the  actor  alone, 
and  society  may  be  compelled  to  forbid  it  in  order  to  pre- 
vent the  injury  which  vice  inflicts  on  the  associates  of  the 
vicious. 

The  word  "sin"  carries  two  connotations.  The  one  for- 
merly most  prominent  was  the  idea  of  a  violation  of  divine 
law,  the  other  is  the  thought  of  a  disclosure  of  baseness  or 
other  evil  trait  in  the  character  of  the  actor.  Vice  is  self- 
injury.  Sin  is  self-disclosure. 

Immorality  is  a  violation  of  the  maxims  which  embody 
the  lessons  of  group  experience  and  tradition  as  to  the  essen- 
tials of  conduct. 

Tort  is  the  infliction  of  injury  for  which  damage  may 
be  recovered  by  civil  process  in  the  absence  of  any  contract. 
Such  damage  may  be  inflicted  for  example  by  libel  or  trespass. 
The  injurious  action  may  or  may  not  be  a  crime. 

Crime  is  the  violation  of  law.  To  drive  on  the  left  side 
of  a  city  street  in  New  York  is  a  crime  but  not  naturally  a 
vice,  a  sin,  or  an  immorality;  ingratitude  is  a  sin  but  not  a 
crime.  In  Canada  it  is  a  crime  to  drive  on  the  right  side  of 
the  street ;  in  one  state  it  is  a  crime  to  carry  a  revolver  or 
to  sell  whiskey;  in  another  state  neither  of  these  acts  is  a 
crime.  Law  determines  what  acts  are  crimes.  In  free  and 
adequately  enlightened  communities  crimes  would  be  immorali- 
ties by  virtue  of  having  been  made  crimes.  And  a  goodj:est 
of  the  enlightenment  of  a  community  is  the  degree  in  which 
It  has  succeeded  in  identifying  and  branding  as  criminal  the 
actions  that  harmjt  most.  The  tendency  is  to  make  actions 
criminal  in  proportion  as  they  excite  disgust  or  ringer,  rather 
than  in  proportion  to  the  harm  they  do.  Thus  to  commit  a 
rape  seems  "more  criminal"  than  habitually  to  practice  seduc- 
tion. The  evil  acts  of  unshorn,  ill-clad,  ignorant  thieves  are 


598  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

sooner  recognized  as  crimes  than  those  of  immaculately 
tailored  manipulators  of  values  and  promoters  of  bubble  in- 
vestments. And  crimes  against  a  particular  victim  who  is 
visualized  both  by  the  criminal  and  by  the  public  indicate  a 
more  perverted  nature,  and  are  more  quickly  execrated  than 
the  long-range  crimes  of  the  quack  medicine  vender,  employer 
of  child  labor,  and  maintainer  of  the  conditions  which 
cause  occupational  diseases  and  accidents,  although  by  far  the 
greater  harm  may  be  wrought  by  actions  of  the  latter  type. 
"A  scientific  penology  will  graduate  punishments  primarily 
according  to  the  harmfulness  of  the  offense  to  society,  and 
secondarily  according  to  the  attractiveness  of  the  offense  to 
the  criminal."  1 

The  severer  crimes  are  termed  felonies,,  and  are  usually 
punished  by  death  or  by  imprisonment  in  a  state  institution 
for  a  term  of  years.  Misdemeanors  are  minor  crimes,,  and 
are  usually  punishable  by  fine,  or  by  imprisonment  in  a  munici- 
pal or  county  jail  for  months  or  days,  or  by  both.  As  the 
law  defines  crime,  so  also  it  determines*  which  crimes  shall 
be  treated  as  felonies,  and  which  as  misdemeanors.  What  in 
one  state  is  a  felony  in  another  may  be  a  misdemeanor. 

Classes  of  Crimes. — Crimes  may  be  classified  with  reference 
either  to  the  object  or  to  the  subject  of  the  action.  With 
reference  to  the  object  of  the  action  they  are : 

1.  Crimes  against  order.     To  prevent  confusion  and  to 
secure  the  aims  of  general  welfare,  definite  methods  of  pro- 
cedure must  be  carried  out.    In  crowded  thoroughfares  there 
must  be  an  understanding  as  to  the  side  of  the  street  to  be 
taken  by  vehicles  going  in  a  given  direction ;  at  crossings  the 
policeman's  signal  must  be  obeyed ;  automobiles  must  be  lighted 
at  night ;  marriages  must  be  licensed,  solemnized,  and  recorded 
in  some  authorized  manner ;  elections  must  be  conducted  in  • 
accordance  with  a  system. 

Crimes  against  legal  rights  and  privileges  may  properly 
be  regarded  as  against  the  social  order. 

2.  Crimes   against  property,  such   as   theft,   arson,   and 
malicious  mischief. 

1  Ross  :    Social  Control,  p.  no. 


CRIME  AND  ITS  CAUSES  599 

3.  Crimes  against  persons,  such  as  assault,  rape,  mayhem, 
and  murder. 

With  reference  to  the  subject  of  the  action  crimes  are 
classified  as: 

1.  Crimes  by  accident.    A  teamster  may  be  on  the  wrong 
side  of  the  road  because  his  horse  has  become  unmanageable, 
or  one  may  kill  another  because  a  gun  unexpectedly  goes  off. 
The  act  objectively  considered  is  in  violation  of   law;  the 
question  to  be  decided  is  as  to  the  state  of  the  subject  of  the 
action :  was  he  free  from  guilty  volition  ? 

2.  Crimes  of  reformers  and  would-be  reformers.     These 
are  persons  who  believe  that  the  social  condition  is  wrong  and. 
that  the  way  to  right  it  is  to  violate  law.     Here  fall  a  large 
part  of  the  political  crimes,  and  crimes  of  labor  agitators. 

3.  Crimes  of  passion  or  sudden  impulse.    These  may  be 
the  acts  of  occasional  criminals  presently  to  be  defined,  yet 
the  criminal  degenerate  and  the  criminal  by  education  are  by 
far  more  likely  than  others  to  commit  crime  under  the  spur 
of  some  violent  passion. 

4.  Premeditated  crimes.1 

•      Classes  of  Criminals. — Criminals  are  classified  in  a  variety 
of  ways.    The  following  classification  is  useful: 

1.  Insane  criminals. 

2.  Degenerate  criminals.    Persons  not  insane  in  the  usual 
acceptance  of  the  term,  but  who,  either  as  a  result  of  inborn 
abnormality,  or  as  a  result  of  their  mode  of  life,  are  without 
the  psychophysical  adaptations  that  enable  most  other  men, 
in  an  ordinary  environment,  to  escape  careers  of  crime. 

3.  Criminals  by  education. 

4.  Occasional  criminals.    Men  who  commit  crime  in  reac- 
tion to  an  unusual  occasion,  who  may  never  have  committed 
crime  before  and  may  never  do  so  again. 

Is  There  a  Criminal  Type  ? — The  great  Italian  criminologist 
Caesar  Lombroso  won  a  considerable  number  of  adherents 
to  the  theory  that  practically  all  who  commit  serious  crimes, 
or  who  follow  careers  of  crime,  are  lacking  the  psychophysical 
organization  that  is  required  by  orderly  civilized  life,  and 

1  Other  than  "reformers'  crimes. 


6oo  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

that  in  nearly  all  cases  the  presence  of  this  lack  reveals  itself 
in  outward  and  visible  abnormality  of  face,  head,  and  body. 
There  is  now  hardly  any  scientific  authority  who  sustains  the 
view  in  this  extreme  form.  Yet  we  have  recognized  in  our 
classification  the  existence  of  criminal  degenerates.  The  fol- 
lowing psychophysical  defects  conduce  to  crime : 

1.  Defective  altruism.     Some  persons  appear  to  be  born 
abnormally  lacking  in  this  traifof  higher  social  animals.     A< 
boy  who  sets  on  fire  the  petticoats  of  his  baby  sister  and  then 
throws  her  out  of  a  second-story  window  is  not  a  normal 
human  being.     The  annals  of  crime  reveal  cases  of  hideous 
insensibility  to  the  sufferings  of  others,  of  which  it  would 
seem  that  a  well-constituted  orang-outang  would  be  incapable 

2.  Lack  of  sensibility  to  social  approval  and  disapproval. 
This  sensibility  is  an  instinct  that  plays  a  leading  part  in 
enabling  society  to  adapt  its  constantly  rising  generations  for 
membership  in  the  social  body.    It  has  been  said  of  the  born 
criminal  that  he  cannot  blush.     With   these,  however,   are 
often  confused  those  who  have  a  normal  responsiveness  to 
the  admiration  and  contempt  of  their  fellows,  but  who  aspire 
to  secure  the  admiration  of  criminals,  and  not  of  well-regu- 
lated citizens,  who  are  ambitious  to  count  in  the  world  but 
whose  world  is  the  world  of  crime,  and  who  in  other  environ- 
ment might  have  pursued,  with  the  same  ardor,  respectable 
callings. 

3.  Lack  of  imaginative  and  esthetic  idealism. 

4.  In  another  connection  we  have  studied  the  difference 
between  fractional  response  with  peripheral  control  and  total 
response  with  central  control.    Fractional  response  corresponds 
to  a  defect  which  may  be  due  either  to  heredity  or  to  inade- 
quate rearing.     When  due  to  hereditary  defect  it  may  result 
from  either  excess  or  defect  of  qualities  that  should  more 
nearly  balance  each  other,  or  from  general  stupidity.     When 
clue  to  lack  of  rearing  it  results  from  the  absence  of  the  guid- 
ing  sentiments,   interests,   and   principles,    socially   acquired, 
which  are  essential  to  the  normal  control  of  conduct. 

5.  General  neurasthenia  and  undervitalization  is  one  r-f 
the' most  frequent  causes  of  crime.    The  man  whose  feet  drag. 


CRIME  AND  ITS  CAUSES  601 

who  lacks  natural  cheer,  hope,  daring,  evenness  of  temper,' 
and  capacity  for  a  protracted  course  of  endeavor,  is  likely  to 
find  his  way  to  the  police  station. 

6.  Feeble-mindedness.  The  feeble-minded  may  be  in  good 
general  health,  they  may  be  sociable,  sympathetic,  and  sensitive 
to  praise  or  blame,  but  they  exhibit  the  symptoms  of  frac- 
tional response  because  there  is  not  enough  clear  mentality 
to  hold  in  vivid  consciousness  the  principles  which  guide  nor- 
mal conduct.  Not  all  who  exhibit  fractional  response  are 
feeble-minded,  but  all  feeble-minded  exhibit  what  in  a  normal 
person  would  be  called  fractional  response.  They  fall  behind 
in  school,  tend  to  give  up  the  expectation  of  respectability, 
and  are  with  great  ease  duped  and  led  by  any  designing 
person. 

Causes  of  Crime. — The  causes  of  crime  may  be  classified 
under  three  heads:  (i)  heredity;  (2)  acquired  traits;  (3) 
environment. 

i.  Heredity.  Concerning  heredity  but  little  need  be  added 
to  that  which  has  just  been  said  in  discussing  the  question  of  a 
criminal  type.  The  natural  appetites  are  not  in  themselves 
bad.  Even  the  hunting  instinct,  to  which  bullying  and  cruelty 
are  attributed,  certainly  once  had  its  proper  place  in  human 
life  and  may  have  it  still;  and  there  is  hardly  any  natural 
prompting  that  could  be  omitted  from  man's  equipment  with- 
out serious  loss.  Man's  characteristic  difficulty  is  not  de- 
pravity but  complexity.  A  prompting  which  is  good  in  its 
place  is  only  one  factor  in  a  whole  that  must  not  be  disar- 
ranged and  to  which  each  part  must  be  in  orderly  subordina- 
tion. It  is  the  very  richness  of  man's  endowment  that  makes 
it  so  easy  for  him  to  make  a  mess  of  it  all.  And  this  destruc- 
tion is  all  the  easier  in  the  case  of  men  who  are  born  deficient 
in  general  vigor  and  soundness  of  balanced  capacity,  or  who 
have  any  of  the  specific  defects  referred  to  in  discussing  the 
question  of  a  "criminal  type." 

It  is  stated  that  at  Elmira  Reformatory  during  a  long 
period  for  which  figures  are  known,  13.7  per  cent,  of  inmates 
had  insane  or  epileptic  heredity;  and  that  of  233  prisoners  at 
Auburn,  New  York,  23.03  per  cent,  were  clearly  of  neurotic 


6o2  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

origin.  One  European  investigation  found  195  out  of  266 
criminals  affected  by  diseases  that  are  "usually  hereditary," 
"and  another  found  morbid  inheritance  in  46  per  cent,  of  crim- 
inals. An  investigator  who  examined  nearly  4,000  German 
criminals  in  a  prison  of  which  he  was  director  found  insane, 
epileptic,  suicidal,  and  alcoholic  heredities  predominant.  Still 
another  investigator  reports  that  he  finds  among  the  parents  of 
184  criminals  only  4  to  5  per  cent,  quite  healthy.  With  refer- 
ence to  such  figures  it  is  essential  to  bear  in  mind  that  in  the 
case  of  a  very  large  percentage  of  persons  who  never  go  to 
prison  some  ancestor  could  be  found  who  had  one  of  those 
defects  that  are  often  inherited;  and  it  is  equally  important 
to  remember  that  investigators  are  prone  to  find  what  they 
are  looking  for.  But  after  all  allowances  are  made  it  is  safe 
to  say  that  one  of  the  causes  of  a  considerable  proportion  of 
crime  is  general  inborn  defectiveness,  or  some  special  excess 
or  defect  in  the  natural  predispositions,  that  invites  an  over- 
throw of  the  orderly  balance  in  action  that  fits  into  a  place 
in  civilized  society.  There  seems  to  be  good  ground  for  the 
belief,  common  among  social  workers,  that  as  a  class,  though 
with  many  exceptions,  honest  men  are  stronger  and  better 
endowed  than  criminals,  and,  moreover,  that  criminals  are 
stronger  and  better  endowed  than  paupers.  This  refers  to 
sedentary  paupers,  not  to  migratory  hoboes.  "Crime,  as  com- 
pared with  pauperism,  indicates  vigor."  "Criminal  careers  are 
more  easily  modified  by  environment,  because  crime,  more 
especially,  contrived  crime,  is  an  index  of  capacity,  and 
wherever  capacity  is  found,  there  environment  is  most  effective 
in  producing  modifications  of  career."  1 

2.  Acquired  Characteristics.  The  treatment  of  this  subject 
in  Chapter  XVI,  "Acquired  Population  Traits  and  Public 
Health"  should  be  recalled.  Drugging  is  of  special  and  sinister 
importance  in  this  connection.  Chloral  has  been  added  to 

1  These  words  are  from  Dugdale  (The  Jukes,  pp.  16,  47,  49,  etc.), 
who  found  that  among  the  540  members  of  one  degenerate  family, 
crossing  with  better  blood  produced  children,  who  in  the  same 
wretched  environment,  tended  to  become  criminals,  while  the  full- 
blooded  Jukes  were  not  criminals  but  paupers. 


CRIME  AND  ITS  CAUSES  603' 

alcohol  as  a  means  by  which  men  render  themselves  reckless 
as  criminals  and  finally  shatter  their  nervous  constitution. 
Drugging  is  almost  inseparable  from  professional  prostitution. 
It  helps  to  create  the  appearance  of  cheer,  to  deaden  sensibility 
to  suffering,  and  to  hasten  death.  According  to  the  relatively 
conservative  estimate  of  Professor  Henderson,  drink  is  one 
of  the  causes  of  50  per  cent,  of  the  crimes,  the  chief  cause  of 
31  per  cent.,  and  the  sole  cause  of  16  per  cent.  Sexual  per- 
version as  an  acquired  trait  was  not  mentioned  in  the  earlier 
chapter  referred  to,  but  must  here  be  recognized  as  the  cause 
of  a  variety  of  crimes,  including  certain  atrocious  murders ; 
by  choking  and  by  slashing  mutilations  that  cause  the  blood 
to  flow. 

More  serious  in  causing  crime  than  any  of  the  more  posi- 
tive and  specific  acquired  traits  is  the  negative  failure  to 
have  developed  the  general  adjustment  to  orderly  and  civilized 
life  which  we  have  called  normal  second  nature,  and  which 
includes  the  four  traits  enumerated  in  the  preceding  chapter : 
honesty;  temperance,  in  the  broad  sense;  steadiness  in  effort; 
and  justice.  The  "hardened  criminal"  has  acquired  instead  a 
second  nature  of  toughened  maladaptation  to  normal  civilized 
existence.  His  habits,  sentiments,  ideas,  his  "world  view,"  are 
perverted.  His  standard  of  self-respect  from  his  youthful  ex- 
periences in  his  boy  gang  may  be  the  idea  of  a  swaggering, 
bullying,  vice-indulging  tough;  his  conception  of  glory  and 
success  may  be  embodied  in  safe-cracking  and  police  evasion ; 
he  may-  believe  all  virtue,  save  personal  kindness  and  loyalty 
between  pals,  to  be  hypocrisy,  a  part  of  a  universal  game  of 
craft  which  he  plays  in  his  own  way.  Such  a  man  is  a 
"criminal  by  education." 

3.  Environment  and  Crime.  The  reader  who  recalls  the 
discussion  of  heredity  in  Chapter  XIII  will  realize  that  bad 
heredity  is  to  some  degree  a  result  of  bad  environment  of 
the  parents.  The  neurasthenia  due  to  stunted  youth,  drunken- 
ness, and  other  acquired  physical  defects  are  far  more  the 
results  of  bad  environment.  Most  significant  of  all  as  causes 
of  crime  are  the  bad  psychic  effects  of  social  molding,  which 
make  what  we  have  just  called  the  criminal  by  education. 


604  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

(a)  .Failure  of  the  family  may  be  offset  by  other  social 
influences,  but  the  frequency  of  serious  consequences  from 
such  failure  illustrates  the  importance  of  that  primary  insti- 
tution. At  times  practically  the  only  hope  for  the  child  is 
to  be  transplanted  from  the  environment  of  an  evil  family. 
Wines  asserts  that  "few  criminals  are  reared  in  the  atmosphere 
of  mutual  help,  subordination,  and  sacrifice,  which  large  fam- 
ilies of  living  children  imply."  Rylands  found  that  of  107 
boys  committed  to  the  Park  Row  Industrial  School,  Bristol, 
in  five  years  only  56  had  both  parents  living.  Of  all  the  boys 
and  girls  committed  to  industrial  schools  in  Great  Britain  in 
1885  only  41.2  per  cent,  had  both  parents  living  and  able  to 
take  care  of  them,  while  of  the  other  58.8  per  cent,  one  or 
both  parents  were  dead  or  criminal  or  had  deserted  their 
children. 

Among  the  serious  causes  of  crime  must  be  enumerated: 
orphaning;  break-up  of  homes  by  divorce  or  by  desertion  by 
the  father;  imprisonment  of  the  father;  employment  of  both 
parents  and  consequent  lack  of  oversight  and  home  atmos- 
phere ;  bad  housing  that  makes  the  home  a  mere  den  or  resting- 
-place to  be  escaped  as  much  as  practicable ;  and  the  ruin  of 
V*  homes  by  drink  and  vice.  Hunger  seldom  makes  a  thief  of  an 
honest  man,  but  poverty  diminishes  the  chance  that  a  boy  will 
be  reared  into  honest  manhood  equipped  for  success  in  an 
honorable  career.  To  these  domestic  causes  must  be  added  the 
loss  of  influence  over  their  children  by  immigrant  parents 
whose  broken  English,  quaint  dress  and  old-world  ways  pre- 
vent them  from  being  looked  up  to  as  examples  by  their  sons 
and  daughters,  because  the  latter  are  unable  to  discriminate 
between  such  externals  and  the  essentials  of  personality.  It  is 
important  to  note  that  it  is  not  the  immigrants  themselves, 
reared  in  the  established  order  of  old-world  communities,  that 
swell  our  criminal  statistics,  but  their  children  reared  in  the 
slums  of  American  cities  and  towns  and  loosed  from  parental 
control  because  of  the  break  in  the  continuity  of  social  tradi- 
tions.1 Finally  child  labor  takes  boys  and  girls  out  of  the 

1For  explanation  of  appearance  of  criminality  among  the  immi- 
grants themselves  see  p.  244. 


CRIME  AND  ITS  CAUSES  605 

home  and  makes  them  more  or  less  independent  economic 
units  before  their  characters  are  formed,  and  often  throws 
them  into  a  corrupting  environment. 

(b)  Bad  company  usually  waits  just  outside  the  door  of 
the  evil  or  inadequate  home.     And  in  the  boys'  gang,  in  the. 
schoolyard  and  in  the  rendezvous  the  same  propensities  to 
imitate  those  who  have  prestige  in  the  group  and  to  emulate 
the  standards  of  the  group  continue  their  work.     The  well- 
known  tendency  for  ideals,  even  when  ideals  have  been  formed, 
to  hide  themselves  in  the  crowd,  and  the  tremendous  urge 
of  the  desire  to  stand  well  with  the  crowd,  mold  the  unformed 
boy  or  girl  with  a  pressure  which  he  or  she  may  see  no  reason 
to  resist,  and  is  not  likely  to  resist  unless  as  a  result  of  some 
other  social  influence.    The  greater  the  energy  and  the  greater 
the  social  amenability,  which  in  another  environment  would 
manifest  itself  as  conscientiousness  and  approved  ambition, 
the  swifter  may  be  the  destruction,  if  the  group  standards 
which  appeal  to  these  instincts  are  destructive  standards.    Bad 
company  lies  in  wait  with  the  lure  of  sociability  and  instinctive 
appeals,  not  only  for  those  who  issue  from  inadequate  homes, 
but  for  most  youths.    And  in  the  worse  sections  instruction  in 
vice  and  crime  is  abundantly  and  gratuitously  provided. 

(c)  Lack  of  education  is  usually  enumerated  as  one  of 
the  serious  causes  of  crime  which  may  be  classed  as  environ- 
mental.    What  has   already  been   said   of   the   criminal   by 
education  shows  plainly  that  education  in  the  deepest  sense 
is  not  all  a  matter  of  the  schools  or  formal  instruction,  but 
what  is  meant  under  this  third  head  is  formal  education  Uy 
schooling  and  by  apprenticeship.     The   high   percentage   of 
illiteracy  among  criminals  means  not  so  much  that  illiteracy 
causes  crime  as  that  both  illiteracy  and  crime  result  from  the 
same   conditions;  that  those  who  lack  the  home  influences 
which  insure  good  schooling,  and  run  the  streets  instead,  are 
the  very  ones  most  likely  to  enter  careers  of  crime.    Truancy 
is  recognized  as  a  vestibule  to  crime.    Yet  mere  illiteracy  can- 
not be  looked  upon  as  a  cause  of  crime.     Neither  does  a 
knowledge  of  arithmetic  and  geography  sensibly  diminish  crim- 
inal propensities;  it  may  make  a  boy  less  likely  to  become  9 


606  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

highwayman  or  a  burglar,  but  more  likely  to  become  a  forger 
or  defaulter.  A  great  class  of  offenses,  and  probably  the 
most  dangerous  class  both  economically  and  socially,  are  not 
the  crimes  of  the  ignorant;  such,  for  example,  are  bribery, 
misrepresentation  of  news,  adulteration,  grafting,  jerry-build- 
ing, ruining  competitors  by  cut-throat  methods,  etc.,  etc.  How- 
ever, without  exaggerating  the  relation  between  illiteracy  and 
morality  we  may  well  observe  that  the  influence  of  teachers 
is  usually  salutary,  and  the  reading  habit  is  a  defense  against 
misused  leisure,  while -history  and  literature4,  if  it  is  literature 
worthy  of  the  name  and  not  the  nickel  thriller  or  the  yellow 
daily,  are  the  moral  equivalent  of  good  company.  It  is  highly 
probable  that  the  schools  will  at  some  time  design  their  work 
with  deeper  insight  into  social  requirements  and  that  they 
will  then  do  more  toward  the  prevention  of  crime  than  they 
now  accomplish,  as  well  as  more  toward  the  positive  develop- 
ment of  social  resources. 

That  education  which-  results  from  apprenticeship  to  some 
calling  that  will  both  discipline  to  steady  industry  and  afford 
a  way  of  making  an  honest  living  is  an  important  preventive 
of  crime,  and  the  lack  of  a  trade  is  a  negative  cause  of  crime. 

(d)  Social  disorganisation,  the  failure  of  any  of  the  great 
social  organizations  to  function  in  proper  adjustment,  may 
be  a  cause  of  crime;  particularly  to  be  noted  here  ate  failures 
of  the  state  and  the  industrial  organization. 

(i)  Political  disorganization  of  a  radical  sort  appears  in 
the  "spoils  system/'  The  spoils  system  promotes  such  prac- 
tkes  as  bribery  at  elections  and  falsification  of  counts  and 
returns,  crimes  that  strike  at  the  vitals  of  democracy  and 
public  welfare.  Bribery  of  councils  and  legislatures  has 
sometimes  been  practiced  and  even  defended  by  men  of  stand- 
ing, on  the  ground  that  it  is  a  practical  necessity  in  the  exist- 
ing state  of  legislatures  and  councils.  That  attitude  on  the 
part  of  such  men  is  the  surest  way  to  continue  the  evil.  The 
spoils  system  and  political  corruption  in  general  gives  the  pub- 
lic an  education  in  the  anti-social  spirit,  the  essence  of  which 
is  the  sacrifice  of  broader  to  narrower  and  more  selfish  in- 
terests. 


CRIME  AND  ITS  CAUSES  607 

Politicians  are  given  tremendous  publicity  and  at  least  the 
adventitious  prestige  which  publicity  confers.  For  that  reason 
corruption  in  political  life  is  peculiarly  contagious.  Professor 
Henderson  remarks  that  "the  local  boss  has  more  influence 
over  the  ideals  accepted  by  the  youth  of  his  district  than  Wash- 
ington or  Lincoln."  When  appointing  power  is  guided  by 
political  considerations  and  legislators  vote  according  to  anti- 
social motives,  it  is  natural  that  many  adopt  a  world  view  of 
which  the  major  premise  is  the  faithlessness  of  man. 

One  of  the  greatest  promoters  of  crime  resulting  from 
bad  politics  is  the  shameful  complicity  with  panders,  pick- 
pockets, and  criminals  in  general,  on  the  part  of  the  officials 
who  are  employed  and  sworn  to  protect  the  public  against 
crime.  The  abuse,  so  often  exposed,  still1  continues,  and  we 
do  not  seem  to  command  sufficient  morality  in  political  life 
to  rid  us  of  these  contemptible  traitors  to  public  trust.  The 
temptation  exists  because  of  the  opportunity  for  concealment 
where  concealment  is  for  the  interest  of  all  the  parties  ac- 
quainted with  the  facts.1  And  the  evil  is  so  systematized  that 
the  individual  is  tempted  to  shift  his  own  responsibility  to 
other  shoulders.  The  dishonor  of  the  offense  is  so  dastardly 
that  its  continuance  is  a  disgrace  to  our  whole  civilization. 

(2)  Bad  business  as  well  as  bad  politics  is  a  source  of 
public  corruption.  We  learn  too  frequently  of  scandals  in 
insurance,  railroading,  and  other  fields  of  high  finance.  The 
two  forms  of  success  most  brought  to  public  attention  are 
success  in  big  business  and  success  in  politics,  and  it  is  a 
calamity  when  from  both  issue  the  impressions  that  cause 
the  spread  of  that  world  view  which  has  for  the  central  article 
of  its  creed  the  faithlessness  of  men — a  world  view  which 
affects  the  character  of  many  who  never  become  criminals. 
The  moral  responsibility  of  conspicuous  sinners  is  great.  It 
is  proper  that  they  should  be  exposed;  but  the  appetite  of 
newsreaders  for  scandal  is  so  great  and  leads  to  such  a  shak- 
ing-out of  soiled  linen,  while  decency  gets  no  advertising,  that 

1  Lincoln  Steffens :  The  Shame  of  Cities.  McClure,  Phillips  & 
«~o..  1904.  C.  H.  Parkhurst :  Our  Fight  with  Tammany.  Scribners. 
1895- 


6o8  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

all  faith  in  virtue  might  be  undermined  if  most  of  us  did  not 
encounter  it  constantly  in  life's  intimate  relationships. 

Industrial  disorganization  is  promotive  of  crime  in  a  variety 
of  other  ways.  It  is  a  cause  of  poverty  and  the  evil  conse- 
quences of  poverty.  It  occasions  the  violence  and  disorder  of 
strikes.  Of  all  the  incidents  of  industrial  disorganization  un- 
employment is  perhaps  the  most  promotive  of  crime.  The 
laborer  out  of  a  job,  whether  he  merely  loafs  or  prosecutes, 
half  despairing,  the  daily  search  for  a  job,  is  in  a  bad  way. 
Savings  are  eaten  up,  the  physical  condition  is  likely  to  de- 
teriorate, the  temptation  to  drink  is  increased,  habits  \)f 
vagrancy  are  easily  set  up,  the  outlook  upon  life  is  likely  to 
become  stolid  or  discouraged  or  hostile.  To  men  in  this  con- 
dition crime  offers  an  interest  and  a  reward. 

(3)  The  obliteration  of  the  neighborhood  in  great  cities 
is  a  form  of  social  disorganization.    The  neighborhood  is  one 
of  the  natural  primary  groups.     It  is  natural  for  every  man 
to  have  a  public  outside  the  home,  which  he  may  indeed  defy, 
but  which  appreciates  his  successes,  respects  his  worth,  and 
effectively  sets  its  face  against  him  if  he  departs  from  the 
path  of  propriety  and  rectitude.     In  the  anonymity  of  the  city 
the  neighborhood  is  dissolved.     Acts  from  which  the  villager 
would  be  deterred  by  shame  are  brazenly  committed  in  the 
concealment  of  "the  city  wilderness."    Moreover,  enough  per- 
sons of  every  good  or  evil  sort  may  be  found  in  the  city  so 
that  the  criminal  can  consort  with  those  who  do  not  con- 
demn, but  even  applaud  his  crimes. 

The  lack  of  domesticity,  the  unmarried  condition  of  many 
~men,  is  a  state  of  social  disorganization.  Traits  and  condi- 
tions that  tend  toward  crime  tend  also  to  prevent  marriage, 
and  the  absence  of  the  restraints,  responsibilities,  interests, 
aims,  and  satisfactions  that  center  in  a  home  is  itself  a  con- 
dition favorable  to  criminality. 

(4)  The  eleven  million  negroes  in  this  country  may  be 
said  to  live  in  a  state  of  partial  social  disorganization  and 
this  helps  to  make  their  rate  of  criminality  higher  than  that 
of  any  other  equal  number  of  people.    They  are  not  members 
in  full  and  regular  standing  in  American  society.     Disgrace 


CRIME  AND  ITS  CAUSES  609 

is  less  disgraceful,  and  high  standing  less  attainable  to  them 
because  of  their  anomalous  position.  It  is  necessary  for  white 
people  to  recognize  that  negroes  are  not  all  alike  and  to  treat 
the  intelligent,  capable,  and  virtuous  among  them  with  appro- 
priate consideration.  But  it  is  still  more  necessary  for  negroes 
to  learn  to  value  the  esteem  and  respect  of  members  of  their 
own  race  and  for  their  own  churches  and  social  circles  to 
discipline  irregularities  with  greater  severity,  so  that  there 
shall  be  careers  for  negroes  as  negroes  and  both  ambition  and 
disgrace  will  exert  their  full  power  irrespective  of  the  attitude 
of  white  men.  Social  separateness  of  the  black  race  does  not 
necessarily  mean  discrimination  against  the  black  race.  It 
tends  rather  to  diminish  unkind  discrimination  against  indi- 
viduals. Wherever  negroes  seek  social  contact  for  the  sake 
of  social  contact,  and  claim  recognition  of  the  equality  of 
their  race,  this  contact  and  recognition  are  denied.  Wherever 
they  entirely  resign  such  claims  their  progress  is  watched  with 
eager  and  hopeful  friendliness,  and  right-minded  white  people 
are  entirely  ready  to  admit  that  many  a  black  man  is  the 
superior  of  very  many  whites  and  that  every  such  black  man 
is  entitled  to  special  respect.  The  friction,  social  disorganiza- 
tion, and  lack  of  repression  of  vice  and  crime,  and  lack  of 
stimulus  to  honest  endeavor  are  partly  due  to  the  lack  of  an 
established  modus  vivendi  accepted  by  both  races.  Such  a 
modus  vivendi,  to  be  stable  and  acceptable,  must  be  honest, 
free  alike  from  unwarranted  claims  on  the  one  side  and  from 
unwarranted  assumption  and  blindness  on  the  other. 

The  Extent  of  Crime. — There  can  be  no  doubt  that  the 
amount  of  crime  in  the  United  States  is  excessive.  It  is  cus- 
tomary to  quote  appalling  statistics  as  to  the  increasing  number 
of  arrests.  Yet  it  is  by  no  means  certain  that  the  more  serious 
forms  of  crime  are  increasing  in  frequency.  Drunkenness  and 
the  crimes  due  to  drunkenness  have  fallen  off.  Yet  the  num- 
ber of  arrests  on  account  of  liquors  has  temporarily  increased 
in  some  localities  because  of  the  increased  stringency  of  laws 
against  intoxication  and  of  laws  regulating  or  forbidding  the 
liquor  traffic.  Carrying  firearms,  gambling,  and  various  forms 
of  disorder  once  went  unforbidden  in  states  which  now  treat 


6io  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

these  acts  as  crimes.  Increase  in  the  number  of  arrests  may 
be  a  sign  of  progress,  though  it  would  show  a  more  advanced 
stage  of  progress  if  harmful  acts  were  not  only  forbidden 
but  so  effectively  prevented  that  arrests  should  become  few. 

The  cost  of  the  arrest,  trial,  and  maintenance  of  criminals 
is  about  one-tenth  of  the  total  burden  of  state  taxation  and, 
excepting  that  for  education,  is  the  heaviest  item  of  state 
expenditure.  If  we  could  add  the  expenditures  for  such  pur- 
poses by  municipalities,  states  and  nation,  and  to  that  add  the 
loss  and  damage  inflicted  upon  society  by  crime  and  criminal 
habits,  the  total  would  be  stupendous.  To  estimate,  as  has  been 
done,  that  the  annual  amount  is  from  $500,000,000  to  $1,000,- 
000,000  is  little  better  than  a  guess.  The  personal  and  social 
losses  and  indirect  damages  are  of  course  incalculable.  The 
National  Prison  Association  in  1910  reported  the  following 
statistics : 

Prisoners  in   50  penitentiaries 47»559 

"    38  workhouses  and  houses  of  correction. . . .     14,274 
"         "  103  reformatories    38,388 


Total    100,221 

Or  more  than  I  to  every  1,000  of  the  population 
In  addition  to  this,  in  3,500  county  jails  either  awaiting 

trial  or  serving  short  sentences,  approximately 100,000 

Confined  in  police  stations  and  lock-ups  awaiting  action 

of  courts,  probably 200,000 

To  the   100,000  persons  confined  for  long  terms  should 

be  added  probably  of  habitual  criminals  at  large 300,000 


Total    700,221 

Drill  is  right  in  remarking  th'at  crime  is  a  sensible  measure 
of  pathological  conditions  existing  in  society.  More  accurately 
still  they  are  a  measure  of  recognized  symptoms  of  the  social 
diseases.  It  may  be  quite  another  matter  to  diagnose  those 
diseases.  And  practices  not  yet  branded  as  crimes  and  the 
fact  that  they  are  not  so  recognized  and  prohibited  may  reveal 
even  more  serious  social  derangement  or  immaturity. 


CHAPTER   XXXIII 
CRIME  AND  ITS  TREATMENT 

The  Motive  of  Punishment. — The  treatment  of  crime  may 
be  divided  into  two  parts :  first,  the  detection,  arrest,  trial,  and 
acquittal  or  conviction ;  second,  the  treatment  of  the  criminal 
after  conviction.  The  former  may  be  called  criminal  pro- 
cedure, the  latter  penology.  The  phrase  "criminal  procedure" 
is  usually  applied  only  to  so  much  of  the  first  of  these  two 
as  pertains  to  the  method  of  conducting  trials. 

The  dictum  of  ex-President  Taft  that  "the  administration 
of  criminal  law  in  all  the  states  of  this  Union  is  a  disgrace 
to  civilization,"  is  echoed  by  many  students  of  the  subject. 
The  absurdity  and  inefficiency  of  our  criminal  procedure  is 
almost  worthy  of  comparison  with  procedure  in  the  old  Eng- 
lish courts  of  chancery  which  Dickens  pilloried.  It  is  so  need- 
lessly slow  and  cumbersome  that  the  courts  of  great  cities 
fall  years  behind  their  docket,  and  so  uncertain  of  reaching 
just  decisions  that  most  competent  witnesses  agree  that  crim- 
inals guilty  of  homicide  are  more  likely  to  escape  through  the 
tangled  meshes  of  its  obsolete  technicalities  than  to  be  con- 
victed.1 The  chief  though  not  the  only  reason  for  this  is 
the  fact  that  the  original  motive  of  criminal  procedure  has 
become  uncertain  of  itself,  and  no  wiser  motive  has  clearly 
established  itself  in  the  public  mind. 

Development  of  Criminal  Procedure. — The  original  motive 
In  the  treatment  of  offenders  was  that  crude  vengeance,  the 
usefulness  of  which  in  maintaining  the  instinctive,  natural 

1  According  to  Graham  Taylor  in  The  Survey  of  February  23,  1915, 
page  535,  a  man  arrested  for  serious  crime  in  Chicago  "stands  only 
about  one  chance  out  of  five  of  ever  getting  into  the  criminal  court," 
and  "anyone  charged  before  the  court  with  felony  stands  about  one 
chance  in  thirty  of  going  to  the  penitentiary  or  reformatory." 

611 


612  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

order  of  primitive  societies,  has  been  commented  upon.  The 
danger  of  free  vengeance  is  not  only  that  it  may  wreak  itself 
upon  the  innocent  but  also  that  the  angry  avenger  will  limit 
the  harm  he  inflicts  only  by  the  bitterness  of  his  own  hate  and 
the  heat  of  his  own  fury,  so  that  the  original  culprit,  after 
vengeance  has  been  taken  upon  him,  feels,  and  all  his  friends 
join  in  the  feeling,  that  it  is  now  his  turn  to  take  rightful 
vengeance.  And  after  he  in  his  turn  has  satisfied  his  resent- 
ment, his  first  offense  has  been  much  exceeded  and  the  original 
victim  and  all  his  friends  feel  that  they  have  a  right  to  re- 
newal of  vengeance  even  greater  than  that  which  they  first 
exacted.  Thus  free  vengeance  tends  to  make  matters  worse 
and  worse  and  to  embroil  the  clan  in  permanent  and  destructive 
feuds.  When  the  attempt  has  failed  to  moderate  the  vengeance 
of  angry  men  to  such  a  point  that  the  culprit  will  accept  the 
penalty  as  just  and  let  the  quarrel  drop,  the  hopeless  tendency 
of  free  vengeance  to  engender  feuds  leads  to  the  second  and 
greater  reform  by  which  chieftains  seek  to  suppress  private 
revenge.  Then,  "Vengeance  is  mine,  I  will  repay,"  is  the  claim 
of  every  wise  and  strong  ruler.  At  this  point  we  find  the 
criminal  procedure  of  all  peoples  that  have  risen  out  of  sav- 
agery to  barbarism  and  the  earlier  stages  of  civilization.  In 
this  stage  the  offended  party  goes  before  the  judge  to  "demand 
vengeance  against  his  adversary."  And  the  purpose  of  the 
court  is  to  inflict  such  penalties  that  the  injured  party  and  the 
bystanders  will  feel  that  "justice  has  been  done"  and  will  be 
content  to  abstain  from  private  revenge.  "Retributive  jus- 
tice" means  such  severity  as  group  feeling  at  the  given  stage 
of  progress  can  witness  with  satisfaction.  Now  arises  the  insti- 
tution of  compositio,  or  wergild,  that  is,  the  complainant 
may  be  content  to  sell  his  right  to  vengeance  for  a  price. 
Cupidity  is  pitted  against  hate.  Originally,  if  he  insists  upon 
his  pound  of  flesh  he  cannot  be  compelled  to  take  gold.  Group 
opinion  sympathizing  with  the  aggrieved  will  not  tolerate  such 
denial  of  the  natural  rights  of  hate.  But  the  influence  of 
authority  is  in  favor  of  substituting  redemption  for  penalties 
that  kill  or  maim  the  fighting  men  of  the  clan.  And  both 
authority  and  group  opinion  insists  that  the  redemption  de- 


CRIME  AND  ITS  TREATMENT  613 

manded  shall  not  be  excessive.  A  very  angry  man,  it  is  ad- 
mitted, must  be  allowed  a  good  round  sum  in  lieu  of  the 
satisfaction  of  his  rage.  Accordingly  a  higher  payment  was 
exacted  by  the  law  when  the  criminal  was  caught  red-handed 
than  when  there  had  been  time  for  the  anger  of  his  victim 
to  cool.  Moreover,  a  powerful  man,  a  nobleman  with  seven 
sons  to  take  up  his  quarrel,  was  allowed  a  richer  redemption 
than  could  be  collected  by  a  weak  man  whose  right  to  avenge 
himself  was  not  so  substantial  a  possession. 

Until  comparatively  recent  times  this  has  been  the  legal 
conception,  and  more  recently  it  has  been  the  theological  con- 
ception of  "justice."  But  as  reason  has  increasingly  tempered 
instinct  in  the  conduct  of  individual  and  social  life,  men  have 
come  to  feel  that  the  infliction  of  one  injury  does  not  neces- 
sarily constitute  a  ground  for  the  infliction  of  another  addi- 
tion to  the  sum  of  human  suffering,  even  upon  the  perpetrator 
of  the  first  offense,  and  that  some  fallacy  is  involved  in  the 
ancient  defense  of  severity  for  the  mere  satisfaction  of  "retri- 
bution." J  Moreover  it  is  more  clearly  realized  that  even  if 
we  do  not  go  so  far  as  to  say  that  "to  understand  all  is  to 
pardon  all,"  still  it  must  be  admitted  that  every  crime  has  a 
"natural  history,"  and  is  likely  to  have  been  the  expression 
of  a  heredity  for  which  the  perpetrator  was  not  responsible 
and  of  an  unfortunate  youth  for  the  conditions  of  which  he 
was  riot  responsible.  In  fact  the  old  motive  of  retribution  has 
broken  down  as  a  basis  for  the  enforcement  of  criminal  law; 
and  this  is  one  fundamental  cause  of  our  deplorable  laxity  in 
its  enforcement. 

The  sociologist  is  sometimes  violently,  but  falsely,  accused 
of  standing  sponsor  for  this  laxity.  It  is  true  that  sociological 

1In  the  development  of  Hebrew  teaching  on  the  subject  of  sin 
and  crime  there  have  been  three  stages :  first,  moderate  your  venge- 
ance, an  eye  for  an  eye ;  second,  leave  vengeance  to  the  rulers ; 
third,  "love  your  enemies,  do  good  to  those  who  despitefully  use  you, 
forgive  as  you  hope  to  be  forgiven."  All  higher  barbarians  have 
risen  to  the  second  stage ;  and  that  instinctive  attitude  is  more  con- 
genial to  ordinary  humanity  than  the  third  stage,  which  harbors  no 
resentment  and  justifies  severity  only  by  the  reasonable  hope  of  pre- 
senting greater  evil,  or  producing  good  either  to  the  guilty  or  to  others. 


614  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

investigation  makes  it  clear  that  "every  crime  has  a  natural 
history,"  as  does  every  other  social  reality.  And  this  knowl- 
edge is  the  chief  agent  in  dissolving  the  old  instinctive  motive 
for  retribution.  It  is  true  also  that  the  sociologist  stands  for 
reformatory  as  well  as  merely  punitive  treatment  of  criminals. 
But  the  sociologist  says  that  if  reason  is  able  to  modify  the 
instinctive  motive  for  the  punishment  of  crime  it  is  also  able 
to  establish  a  rational  motive;  that  the  rational  motive  for 
the  punishment  of  crime  is  not  vengeance  or  retribution,  but 
the  protection  of  society;  and  that  reason  calls  not  for  a  fur- 
ther reduction  of  severity  in  the  treatment  of  crime,1  but  on 
the  contrary  it  demands  a  notable  increase  in  the  swiftness 
and  certainty  of  punishment;  and  that  punishment  guided  by 
the  motive  of  protection  to  society  will  be  far  wiser  than 
punishment  guided  by  the  spirit  of  vengeance  or  retribution, 
for  it  will  mete  out  its  severities  not  in  proportion  to  the 
power  of  the  criminal  and  the  crime  to  awaken  instinctive 
repugnance  rising  from  primitive  race  experience  or  ancient 
prejudice  but  in  proportion  to  its  harmfulness  to  society  and 
its  attractiveness  to  the  criminal  under  present  conditions.  It 
will  not  let  the  pretty  woman,  and  the  well-tailored  society 
man  who  is  guilty  of  impersonal  wholesale  crimes,  go  free, 
while  emptying  its  vials  of  wrath  upon  the  unshorn  victim  of 
evil  social  conditions,  in  whose  breast  may  still  be  kindled  the 
flame  responsive  to  noble  ideals  if  once  they  can  be  clearly 
presented  to  him. 

The  sociologist  may  add  that  the  deterrent  power  of  punish- 
ment depends  far  more  upon  its  certainty  than  upon  its  sever- 
ity. The  instinctive  motive  for  the  punishment  of  offenders 
called  for  severity ;  but  the  growing  opposition  to  that  motive 
has  destroyed  the  certainty  of  punishment,  and  has  provided 
a  maze  of  defenses  to  protect  the  accused  against  the  severities 
of  retributive  law,  until  it  has  created  the  probability  of  his 
entire  escape.  The  further  progress  of  reason  will  not  only 

1  Ex-President  Roosevelt  may  be  quite  right  in  saying  that  as  long  as 
brave  and  noble  men  are  required  to  lay  down  their  lives  for  the  pub- 
lic safety  there  can  be  no  reasonable  refusal  to  take  the  lives  of  cer- 
tain classes  of  criminals  as  a  means  of  promoting  that  safety. 


CRIME  AND  ITS  TREATMENT  615 

supply  a  new  and  adequate  motive  for  severity,  namely,  regard 
for  public  safety,  but  will  also  sweep  away  the  cumbrous 
impediments  to  swiftness  and  certainty  of  procedure,  and  sub- 
stitute efficient  methods  of  intelligent,  speedy,  and  far  less 
uncertain  detection  and  punishment  of  offenders. 

Trial  by  Jury. — Two  principal  considerations  appear  to 
have  guided  the  development  of  English  and  American  crim- 
inal procedure :  first,  a  desire  to  protect  suspected  persons 
against  the  summary  wrath  of  angry  accusers  and  precipitate 
magistrates,  the  main  reliance  for  this  protection  being  upon 
the  jury;  and  second,  a  desire  to  avoid  perversion  of  justice 
through  the  befuddlement  of  juries.  These  two  purposes  have 
found  expression  in  rules  like  these : 

There  must  be  a  jury  who  will  be  open  to  the  purely 
human  appeal.  Instead  of  assuming  neither  guilt  nor  inno- 
cence, everything  must  be  consistent  with  the  assumption  of 
innocence.  In  general  a  unanimous  verdict  of  the  jury  is  nec- 
essary for  conviction.  No  witness  can  be  allowed  to  tell  what 
has  been  reported  to  him,  but  must  confine  his  testimony  to 
what  he  has  himself  directly  observed.  No  testimony  against 
the  general  character  of  the  accused  can  be  introduced;  the 
prosecutor  and  the  witnesses  must  confine  themselves  strictly 
to  the  specific  action  accurately  described  in  the  indictment, 
unless  the  defense  has  first  attempted  to  prove  good  general 
character,  in  which  case  the  prosecution  may  introduce  testi- 
mony in  rebuttal  to  that  claim.  The  accused  cannot  be  re- 
quired to  testify.  If  at  the  end  it  can  be  shown  that  in  the 
course  of  a  trial  any  of  the  numerous  rules  of  procedure  have 
been  broken,  the  accused  may  ask  for  a  new  trial,  and  if  retrial 
is  granted,  the  severity  of  the  penalty  adjudged  at  the  first 
trial  may  be  diminished  but  cannot  be  increased,  while  on 
the  other  hand  the  prosecutor  cannot  appeal  from  an  acquittal ; 
it  is  final. 

This  system  has  become  cluttered  by  technicalities,  and 
with  the  breakdown  of  the  motive  of  vengeance  or  retribution 
to  which  it  is  adapted  it  has  far  too  many  facilities  for  the 
escape  of  the  guilty. 

Should  the  jury  be  retained?    Some  students  of  this  sub- 


616  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

ject  are  of  the  opinion  that  the  jury  should  be  abolished.  Its 
original  purposes  can  hardly  be  said  now  to  exist.  If  a  bench 
of  three  judges  were  substituted  for  the  jury  most  if  not  all 
of  the  hindrances  to  the  taking  of  testimony  which  now  hedge 
in  our  criminal  procedure  could  safely  be  removed.  Even 
"hearsay  evidence,"  which  is  sometimes  of  great  value,  when 
both  of  the  speakers  involved  are  of  high  character  and  in- 
telligence, might  be  admitted  before  a  bench  of  judges  specially 
trained  in  the  sifting  and  weighing  of  evidence.  The  objec- 
tion to  examining  the  prisoner,  who  is  likely  to  be  incompar- 
ably the  most  important  of  all  witnesses,  would  be  removed 
before  judges  who  understood  the  tricks  of  lawyers  and  knew 
how  to  avoid  being  misled  by  the  confusion  of  a  witness 
anxious  for  his  own  safety.  The  jury  is  composed  of  men 
of  no  special  training  for  the  task  or  experience  in  it,  chosen 
by  lot  from  a  list  of  names  from  which  the  names  of  doctors, 
lawyers,  ministers,  and  most  others  of  special,  proved  intelli- 
gence, as  well  as  names  of  day  laborers,  have  been  omitted. 
These  untrained  juries  are  likely  to  be  swayed  by  the  skill  and 
eloquence  of  lawyers,  so  that  there  is  much  reason  in  the 
saying  that  "the  able  advocate  has  greater  influence  than  the 
merits  of  the  case."  The  winsome  or  pathetic  appearance  of 
the  accused,  the  dramatic  incident  in  the  courtroom,  the  strik- 
ing fact  connected  with  the  case  that  takes  possession  of  atten- 
tion to  the  practical  exclusion  of  considerations  more  essential 
to  a  proper  decision,  the  fluctuating  attention  with  which 
untrained  minds  follow  testimony  and  argument,  continue  to 
render  the  verdicts  of  juries  a  doubtful  foundation  for  jus- 
tice or  for  social  defense.  The  juror  can  accept  a  bribe  with 
little  danger  of  detection,  and  he  has  no  reputation  as  a  judge 
to  maintain.1 

The  Training  of  Criminal  Lawyers. — Whether  we  perma- 
nently retain  the  jury  or  not  it  is  evident  that  subordinating 
the  motive  of  retribution  to  that  of  social  protection,  and 
changing  the  purpose  of  procedure  from  merely  identifying  the 
perpetrator  of  an  act,  to  discovering  the  character  of  a  man, 

1  Parmelee :  Anthropology  and  Sociology  in  Relation  to  Criminal 
Procedure,  chap.  x. 


CRIME  AND  ITS  TREATMENT  617 

will  necessitate  marked  changes  from  the  historic  practices 
of  the  courts. 

In  the  first  place  those  responsible  for  the  decisions  to  be 
reached  must  be  trained  not  only  in  the  law,  which  defines 
crimes  and  penalties  and  the  method  of  conducting  trials,  but 
also  in  anthropology,  sociology,  and  the  psychology  of  testi- 
mony. That  is  to  say,  they  must  be  expert  in  identifying  the 
causes  of  crime,  and  able  to  distinguish  between  the  different 
classes  of  criminals.  There  should  ultimately  be  employed  by 
the  state,  criminal  anthropologists  or  psychiatrists,  wlio  should 
pass  upon  cases  of  suspected  insanity  or  criminal  abnormality, 
instead  of  either  ignoring  such  peculiarities,  or,  in  case  they 
are  urged  as  defenses,  depending  on  the  decision  of  judges 
who  are  trained  only  in  the  law  and  who  base  their  decisions 
on  the  testimony  of  psychiatrists  chosen  and  paid  by  the  con- 
tending parties.  Criminal  law  should  constitute  a  profession 
distinct  from  civil  law  and  all  who  deal  with  criminals  should 
have  had  a  special  training  for  that  service.  Even  policemen 
should  have  been  instructed  as  to  what  they  should  look  for 
when  gathering  evidence.  And  it  would  be  desirable  for  every 
criminal  lawyer  after  his  schooling  to  spend  a  period  of  resi- 
dence at  a  penal  institution,  as  young  physicians  do  at  a  hos- 
pital, familiarizing  himself  with  the  types  of  cases  with  which 
he  must  later  deal.  Theoretically  the  trial  should  be  a  scien- 
tific investigation  aiming  to  get  at  the  truth  about  the  accused 
person,  and  free  from  the  spirit  of  either  attack  or  defense 
toward  him.  Practically,  however,  the  bias  of  personal  sym- 
pathy on  the  one  hand,  and  of  professionalism  as  representing 
the  accusing  public  on  the  other,  is  so  nearly  sure  to  creep 
in,  and  the  mental  difficulty  if  not  impossibility  of  pursuing 
evidence  for  conflicting  theories  with  equal  attention  and  eager- 
ness is  such  that  the  practice  of  having  both  a  prosecutor  and 
a  defender  seems  to  be  the  only  way  to  insure  adequate 
presentation  of  the  facts.  But  for  the  sake  of  fairness  to 
rich  and  poor  who  come  under  the  suspicion  of  the  law,  the 
defender  as  well  as  the  prosecutor  should  be  provided  by  the 
public.  These  officers  might  be  appointed  to  serve  for  alter- 
nate periods  as  defenders  and  then  as  prosecutors.  Every 


618  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

judge  in  a  criminal  court  should  have  had  experience  as  a 
criminal  lawyer,  both  as  a  prosecutor  and  as  a  defender. 

Individualization  and  Criminal  Procedure. — Under  our 
present  system  of  procedure  any  indefiniteness  or  irregularity 
in  the  indictment  may  secure  the  release  of  the  prisoner,  even 
though  the  testimony  has  afforded  complete  evidence  of  his 
guilt.  And  the  whole  purpose  of  the  trial  is  to  answer  but 
one  question:  Is  this  man  guilty  of  the  charge?  This  was 
all  the  knowledge  wanted  so  long  as  retribution  was  the  motive. 
But  under  the  new  motive  of  social  protection  the  inquiry 
would  be :  Is  this  man  dangerous  to  society ;  if  so  how  dan- 
gerous? Why  is  he  so,  by  inborn  and  incurable  disposition 
or  by  reason  of  acquired  bent?  How  can  he  be  treated  with 
reasonable  assurance  of  preventing  further  injury  to  society 
from  his  acts,  and  of  restoring  him  to  useful  membership  in 
society,  if  that  be  feasible,  while  at  the  same  time  applying, 
such  swift  and  certain  punishment  as  to  deter  others  from 
the  commission  of  crimes  like  his? 

The  knowledge  that  a  man  has  committed  a  single  act  is 
far  from  being  sufficient  basis  for  the  wise  treatment  of  his 
case.  Two  acts  that  are  outwardly  and  legally  the  same  may 
be  vastly  different  as  expressions  of  the  character  and  dan- 
gerousness  of  the  actor.  One  may  be  the  act  of  a  professional 
thief  engaged  in  the  regular  pursuit  by  which  he  sustains  him- 
self in  a  life  of  debauchery,  the  other  may  be  the  only  crime 
of  a  devoted  husband  and  father  hard-pressed  by  temporary 
unemployment,  or  the  prank  of  a  misguided  joker,  or  the  first 
offense  of  an  endangered  youth.  And  it  is  impossible  for 
us  to  measure  out  a  precise  quantity  of  suffering  demanded 
by  retributive  justice:  The  law  of  one  state  may  allow  twice 
as  long  an  imprisonment  as  that  prescribed  by  another  state 
for  the  same  act.  And  thirty  or  ninety  days  in  jail  to  one 
may  be  a  brief  sojourn  in  a  public  rest  cure  with  all  expenses 
paid,  a  subject  for  jocose  remarks  among  boon  companions; 
to  another  the  same  sentence  may  mean  the  blasting  of  a 
career.  Not  an  act  but  a  man  would  be  the  object  of  in- 
quiry by  criminal  procedure  if  it  were  guided  by  rational  rather 
than  instinctive  motives.  Instead  of  barring  all  inquiry  into 


CRIME  AND  ITS  TREATMENT  619 

the  general  character  of  the  accused,  except  under  certain 
specified  conditions,  the  court  would  always  proceed  to  the 
investigation  of  the  general  character.  And  the  prisoner,  who 
of  all  persons  has  knowledge  of  the  facts  which  the  court 
must  learn,  would  be  required  to  testify.  Our  present  pro- 
cedure allows  a  certain  departure  from  absolute  rigidity  by 
such  provisions  as  that  in  some  cases  the  indictment  may 
specify  whether  the  action  is  the  first  offense,  and  that  the 
court  may  have  discretion  within  certain  limits  as  to  the  sen- 
tence to  be  imposed  upon  one  who  has  been  convicted  of  an 
act  defined,  but  still  the  inquiry  is  strictly  limi^d  to  this :  Is 
the  accused  guilty  or  not  guilty  of  a  specific  action  that  has 
been  legally  defined  as  a  crime  and  against  which,  when  proved, 
a  specific  penalty,  defined  within  limits,  must  be  denounced 
by  the  court?  That  our  present  judicial  machinery  is  totally 
inadequate  to  the  purpose  of  individualization  in  the  treatment 
of  crime  is  the  natural  result  of  the  fact  that  it  has  not  been 
developed  for  any  such  purpose. 

Individualization  After  Conviction. — Such  expert  investiga- 
tion of  the  native  and  acquired  traits,  and  social  past  of  crim- 
inals would  disclose  the  absurdity  of  treating  them  all  alike 
after  convictions. 

A  large  proportion  of  first  offenders,  as  the  experience  of 
some  states  shows,  can  safely  be  released  under  suspended 
sentence,  provided  sufficient  intelligence  is  exercised  in  select- 
ing those  who  are  to  be  accorded  such  treatment,  and  pro- 
vided the  probationers  are  continuously  supervised  by  ade- 
quately competent  officers  <of  the  court.  The  probationers 
should  be  required  to  be  regular  at  their  employment,  and  to 
make  periodical  reports  to  the  probation  officer,  very  probably 
each  to  the  very  lawyer  who  had  defended  him  and  who  would 
be  in  an  intimate  and  confidential  relation  well  calculated  to 
promote  personal  helpfulness.  If  at  any  time  the  conduct  and 
spirit  of  a  probationer  became  unsatisfactory  he  could  be 
sent  to  a  penal  institution  in  execution  of  the  original  sen- 
tence, without  retrial.  In  this  way,  judging  from  such  ex- 
perience on  the  point  as  we  already  have,  about  85  per  cent,  of 
these  adult  probationers,  whose  sentence  had  been  suspended, 


620  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

would  entirely  escape  prison  experience  because  they  would 
never  again  show  themselves  dangerous  to  society.1 

At  the  opposite  extreme,  born  criminals  and  some  who 
now  are  acquitted  and  set  at  liberty  on  the  ground  that  they 
are  "not  responsible,"  would  be  permanently  confined  at  such 
labor  as  they  were  able  to  perform.  The  fact  that  a  given 
criminal  was  "not  responsible  for  his  acts"  may  have  been  a 
logical  ground  for  releasing  him  so  long  as  "retribution"  was 
the  motive  for  incarceration,  but  it  becomes  one  of  the 
strongest  grounds  for  his  permanent  detention  as  soon  as  we 
adopt  "the  protection  of  society"  as  the  motive  for  the  incar- 
ceration of  criminals.  At  the  same  time  punishment  for  the 
sake  of  deterrence  is  without  warrant  in  the  case  of  those 
who  have  not  sufficient  reason  and  self-control  to  be  governed 
by  regard  for  consequences.  Those  of  the  same  class  who 
remain  at  liberty  cannot  be  deterred  from  crime  by  the  penal- 
ties suffered  by  those  who  have  been  convicted.  And  in  cases 
of  absolute  inability  to  be  governed  by  regard  for  consequences, 
no  strictly  penal  element  in  their  treatment  would  be  justi- 
fied. But  the  feeble-minded,  congenitally  perverted,  and  all 
irresponsible  criminals,  should  be  kept  in  humane  but  perma- 
nent confinement. 

The  great  majority  of  criminals  by  education  should  be 
subjected  to  reformatory  treatment. 

Reformatory  Treatment. — Reformatory  treatment  requires 
the  indeterminate  sentence,  educational  measures,  gradation, 
and  conditional  release. 

The  indeterminate  sentence  is  an  indispensable  part  of 
any  satisfactory  system  for  the  reformation  of  criminals.  The 
criminal  does  not  usually  want  to  be  reformed.  But  it  is 

lThe  Indiana  Boajd  of  Charities  states  that  if  the  prisoners 
paroled  during  the  year  1912  "had  remained  in  prison  their  main- 
tenance for  one  year  would  have  cost  the  State,  at  the  average  per 
capita  expense,  the  additional  sum  of  $1,152,555.  Professor  Ganet  in 
the  Journal  of  the  American  Institute  of  Criminal  Law  and  Crim- 
inology, March,  1915,  estimates  that  the  parole  system  has  saved  to  the 
States  of  the  Union  in  which  it  is  in  force  more  than  $10,000,000,  or 
more  than  five  times  what  it  has  cost,  and  that  the  earnings  of  the 
men  on  parole  have  had  a  value  of  not  less  than  $30,000,000." 


CRIME  AND  ITS  TREATMENT  621 

necessary  that  he  apply  himself  to  the  activities  that  will  help 
to  reform  him :  he  must  study  lessons  and  learn  to  work. 
There  is  just  one  motive  that  can  be  depended  on  to  call  forth 
the  activities  that  will  help  to  transform  him,  namely,  the 
hope  of  release.  Let  him  know  that  his  release  is  conditioned 
upon  making  a  certain  record  and  accomplishing  certain  results 
and  he  will  almost  always  apply  himself  with  all  the  powers 
he  possesses.  After  his  reading  and  discussions  and  contact 
with  prison  officials  have  fixed  his  attention  upon  views  of 
life  different  from  those  by  which  his  criminal  career  had 
been  actuated  he  may  begin  to  cooperate  with  the  efforts  made 
in  his  behalf,  not  merely  out  of  hope  for  release,  but  out  of 
desire  to  prepare  himself  for  an  honest  career.  Unless  this 
spirit  can  be  awakened  there  is  little  or  no  hope  of  genuine 
reform.  Those  men  who  have  had  least  contact  with  nor- 
malfsociety  and  whose  world  view  has  therefore  been  utterly 
perverted,  are  not  seldom  the  very  ones  who,  when  they  catch 
sight  of  a  practicable  entrance  to  a  better  way  of  life  and 
are  convinced  that  there  is  such  a  thing  as  sincere  virtue,  adopt 
the  better  way  with  a  zeal  that  is  akin  to  the  idealism  of 
unsullied  youth. 

The  educational  measures  applicable  to  men  who  have 
been  convicted  of  crime  cannot  be  extensively  discussed  here, 
and  if  they  could  they  would  fall  properly  under  a  later  topic : 
education  is  a  supplement  to  the  law,  rather  than  a  'part  of 
its  control  by  sanctions.  Law  besides  deterring  men  by  threat 
of  the  penalties  to  be  swiftly  and  certainly  meted  out  to  of- 
fenders, exercises  the  compulsion  necessary  to  force  unwilling 
adults  into  a  school  adopted  to  their  reform. 

By  "gradation"  of  prisoners  is  meant  the  practice  of  sepa- 
rating the  prison  population  into  classes,  one  of  which  may 
wear  stripes,  live  in  hard  quarters,  eat  the  simplest  fare,  and 
perform  irksome  tasks,  while  others  are  admitted  to  better 
privileges,  the  classification  depending  upon  the  behavior  and 
progress  of  the  individuals.  This  is  a  supplement  to  the  in- 
determinate sentence  as  a  motive,  but  will  not  serve  as  a 
substitute  for  it.  ""';• 

Provisional  release  is  the  next  step  in  the  system.     Ex- 


622  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

perienced  prison  officials  acquire  notable  proficiency  in  dis- 
tinguishing between  genuine  reform  and  artful  and  diligent 
pretense.  Nevertheless,  they  cannot  be  certain  that  every 
man  who  has  acquired  a  given  proficiency  in  assigned  tasks 
and  who  professes  with  apparent  sincerity  the  desire  for  an 
honest  life  has  ceased  to  be  dangerous  to  society.  Such  men 
may  be  provisionally  released.  If  their  conduct  is  not  satis- 
factory they  should  be  recommitted  without  trial.  But  if 
they  are  regular  at  their  work,  unobjectionable  in  their  prac- 
tices and  companionships,  and  punctual  in  their  reports,  then 
surveillance  may  be  relaxed.  And  after  the  lapse  of  a  suf- 
ficient time  they  might  be  formally  rehabilitated  by  legal  cere- 
mony, as  is  the  practice  in  France. 

The  judge  who  has  presided  at  the  trial  of  a  criminal 
(or  one  of  the  judges  in  case  it  became  the  practice  to  have 
more  than  one)  has  special  knowledge  of  the  case  and 'has 
assumed  responsibility  for  the  propriety  of  the  treatment  pre- 
scribed by  the  sentence.  It  is  proposed  that  such  a  judge 
shall  be  one  of  those  who  have  a  voice  in  determining  when 
the  time  for  release  and  then  for  rehabilitation  has  come.  An 
official  of  the  reformatory  institution  where  the  prisoner  has 
been  should  have  a  voice  in  the  decision.  And  it  is  argued 
that  a  third  person  having  no  professional  connection  with 
the  case  should  also  have  membership  in  the  board  to  which 
this  decision  is  intrusted. 

It  should  be  made  sure  either  by  the  probation  officer  to 
whom  the  released  prisoner  is  paroled  or  by  some  other  person 
that  there  is  employment  for  him.  In  many  states  a  volun- 
tary organization  now  secures  in  advance  the  dates  at  which 
prisoners  are  to  be  discharged,  enters  into  relation  with  the 
men  before  their  release,  and  assists  them  in  making  a  new 
start  in  the  world. 

It  is  sometimes  objected  that  reformatory  treatment  is 
not  sufficiently  deterrent.  The  prisoner's  health  is  restored  by 
medical  care,  proper  diet,  and  physical  training,  his  educa- 
tion is  promoted,  and  the  objector  declares  that  he  is  better 
off  than  the  honest  laborer  outside  prison  walls.  To  this  it 
may  be  replied  that  there  is  no  reason  why  life  in  a  reforma- 


CRIME  AND  ITS  TREATMENT  623 

tory  may  not  be  sufficiently  penal;  and  that  deprivation  of 
liberty  is  in  itself  a  penalty  which  most  men  regard  with  dread 
and  that  release  from  a  reformatory  can  be  had  only  after 
submission  to  an  exacting  regime.  So  exacting  is  it  and  at 
first  so  repugnant  to  lawless  loafers  who  have  acquired  no 
habits  of  regulated  application  that  "the  worst  men  prefer  to 
be  sent  to  a  prison  organized  on  the  old  plan."  *  The  system 
of  individualization  just  described,  especially  the  indeterminate 
sentence,  is  possibly  the  greatest  deterrent  from  careers  of 
professional  crime.  In  spite  of  the  earlier  release  of  some, 
the  average  prison  term  is  longer  under  the  indeterminate  sen- 
tence than  under  the  definite  sentence,  on  account  of  the  pro- 
longed retention  of  professional  criminals.  In  every  great 
American  city  there  are  men  who  follow  no  honest  calling 
and  whom  the  police  recognize  on  the  street  as  professional 
criminals.  But  these  men  cannot  be  arrested  save  when  there 
is  evidence  of  some  specific  crime,  complete  enough  to  make 
conviction  probable,  and  after  arrest  they  can  be  convicted  and 
punished,  not  as  professional  criminals,  but  only  for  the 
specific  act  named  in  the  indictment.  The  sentence  may  in- 
deed be  lengthened  upon  the  second  and  third  conviction,  but 
upon  release  the  criminal  is  turned  loose  to  resume  his  illicit 
profession.  When  a  man  is  punished  again  and  again  for  the 
same  crime  it  is  obvious  that  the  penal  treatment  which  he 
has  received  has  not  been  such  as  to  secure  the  protection  of 
society.  Under  a  system  of  individualization,  the  period  of 
incarceration  can  be  utilized  for  purposes  of  reeducation  and 
the  establishment  of  habits  of  regular  industry,  and  release 
takes  place  only  after  satisfactory  progress  in  this  reeducation 
accompanied  by  evidence  of  a  reformed  disposition.  More- 
over, release  is  not  unconditional  but  the  state  insists  upon 
the  pursuit  of  an  honest  calling  and  upon  proper  habits 
and  associations,  and  will  recommit  the  offender  without 
retrial  if  his  conduct  is  such  as  to  convince  the  proper  au- 
thority that  his  continued  liberty  is  a  menace  to  the  public 
safety. 

1  Wines:     Punishment  and  Reformation.     Crowell  and   Co.,   1895, 
p.  225. 


624  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

The  Jail. — All  students  of  this  subject  agree  in  denounc- 
ing the  stupidity  and  the  demoralizing  effects  of  the  jails  in 
which  misdemeanants  are  confined.  The  ordinary  county 
jail  is  regarded  as  probably  the  most  efficient  school  of  crime 
ever  devised. 

Here  prisoners  spend  their  thirty  or  sixty  or  ninety  days 
in  idleness,  usually  supplied  with  tobacco  and  cards,  enter- 
taining each  other  with  such  conversation  as  their  character 
prompts.  Here  the  vicious  and  hardened  impart  their  out- 
look upon  life,  as  well  as  specific  lessons  in  vice  and  crime, 
to  endangered  youth,  to  first  offenders,  and  often  even  to 
innocent  accused  persons  and  detained  witnesses.  In  most 
counties  there  is  not  enough  money  available  and  not  a  suf- 
ficient number  of  prisoners,  to  seem  to  justify  spending  the 
money  that  would  be  required  to  secure  adequate  discipline, 
regular  industry,  and  some  educational  and  reformatory  in- 
fluences. These  things  are  provided  for  felons  who  have 
graduated  from  our  jails  but  not  for  misdemeanants.  It  would 
be  a  great  gain  if  misdemeanants  were  committed  to  work- 
houses properly  administered  and  supervised  by  the  state 
and  located  at  such  intervals  as  local  conditions  require.  Pos- 
sibly in  some  of  the  most  sparsely  settled  states  this  will 
for~a  time  be  impracticable.  The  objection  of  the  labor 
unions  to  convict  labor  has  weight  when  the  labor  is  for  the 
benefit  of  a  contractor,  but  not  when  it  is  part  of  a  policy 
necessary  to  the  common  good. 

Other  Suggestions. — It  has  been  suggested  that  convicts  in 
penitentiaries  and  in  the  proposed  workhouses  be  paid  some- 
thing for  their  labor  so  that  they  may  have  the  feeling  of  an 
honest  dollar,  so  that  they  may  leave  the  place  of  confine- 
ment with  a  little  money  truly  earned,  and  especially  in  or- 
der that  those  with  families  may  be  made  to  contribute 
something  toward  their  support  during  the  period  of  confine- 
ment. 

In  several  of  the  chief  American  cities,  including  New 
York  and  Boston,  fines  may  be  paid  in  installments,  so  that 
men  need  not  so  often  be  committed  for  non-payment  of  fine 
to  jails  where  they  cannot  pay,  and  where  they  are  demoral- 


CRIME  AND  ITS  TREATMENT  625 

ized,  and  so  that  misdemeanants  may  keep  themselves  instead 
of  being  kept  by  the  city  or  county. 

It  is  argued  that  an  acquitted  person  be  indemnified  for 
the  costs  to  which  he  has  been  put  and  the  loss  of  his  time, 
and  that  a  person  proved  to  be  innocent,  after  serving  a  sen- 
tence, have  financial  redress.1 

It  is  argued  that  since  the  law  exists  to  protect  the  citizens, 
the  person  injured  by  a  crime  should  benefit  by  the  fine  col- 
lected, and  that  a  thief  should  be  compelled  to  make  good 
the  loss  his  act  has  caused,  if  necessary  out  of  wages  earned 
in  confinement. 

Juvenile  Courts. — Most  of  the  recommendations  above  dis- 
cussed for  individualizing  the  treatment  of  accused  persons 
have  been  adopted  in  a  larger  part  of  the  United  States  in  the 
treatment  of  juvenile  delinquents. 

Inestimable  as  are  the  advantages  of  juvenile  court 
methods  in  turning  aside  endangered  youth  from  courses  of 
crime  "the  chief  significance  of  the  juvenile  court  movement 
is  that  in  breaking  away  from  the  old  procedure  it  is  preparing 
the  way  for  a  new  procedure  for  adults  as  well  as  for 
juveniles."  2 

Juvenile  courts  were  first  established  in  large  cities,  but 
later  certain  states 3  have  authorized  all  county  judges  in 
dealing  with  prisoners  under  eighteen  years  of  age  to  suspend 
the  ordinary  rules  of  criminal  procedure  and  adopt  the  juvenile 
court  methods;  and  have  authorized  every  county  board  to 
appropriate  funds  to  pay  the  salary  of  a  probation  officer  ap- 
pointed by  the  court.  Such  appropriations  can  be  justified 
in  the  eyes  of  county  officials  on  the  ground  of  immediate 
economy  alone,  for  they  save  the  cost  of  criminal  prosecution 
and  it  is  less  expensive  to  have  juvenile  delinquents  at  school 

1  John  E.  Schuyler,  released  from  prison  in  New  Jersey,  Dec.  23. 
1915,  after  eight  years'  imprisonment  for  a  murder,  of  which  he  had 
been  convicted  on  circumstantial  evidence,  and  which  another  man 
finally  confessed,  had  lost  $13,040  in  wages  and  costs.  There  was  no 
way  in  which  he  could  recover  a  dollar. 

1  Maurice  Parmelee :  Anthropology  and  Sociology  in  Relation  to 
Criminal  Procedure.  Macmillan,  1908,  p.  176. 

"Illinois  was  the  first  state  to  pass  such  a  law. 


626  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

under  the  care  of  a  probation  officer  than  to  keep  them  in 
jail.1  And  when  we  take  into  account  the  criminal  careers 
averted,  the  cost  of  detective  and  police  service,  and  of  prison 
terms  rendered  unnecessary,  the  depredations  prevented,  and 
the  boys  saved,  the  argument  cannot  be  resisted  by  a  mind 
conversant  with  the  facts. 

The  principles  of  juvenile  court  procedure  are  as  follows : 
(i)  The  object  is  not  to  punish  a  specific  act  but  to  under- 
stand the  case  and  devise  treatment  calculated  to  prevent 
the  beginning  or  continuance  of  a  criminal  career.  (2)  There 
is  no  prosecution  but  rather  an  investigation,  the  state  seek- 
ing facts  both  favorable  and  unfavorable  to  the  accused,  and 
the  probation  officer  and  the  judge  assuming  the  relation  of 
friends  and  advisers  having  no  tolerance  for  evil  conduct  but 
desiring  to  save  the  child  from  evil  conduct  and  so  from  its 
consequences.  (3)  Where  there  is  reasonable  hope  of  co- 
operation from  the  endangered  child  probation  is  granted 
under  the  supervision  of  an  officer  of  the  court.  (4)  The 
investigation  is  extended  to  the  social  environment  of  the  child 
and  an  effort  made  to  improve  it  by  enforcing  laws  relating 
to  child  labor,  school  attendance,  parental  non-support,  neg-« 
lect  contributory  to  delinquency,  etc.  (5)  There  is  avoidance 
of  publicity  and  of  all  association  with  criminals.  To  pre- 
vent criminal  association  and  the  criminal  stigma  no  child 
should  be  sent  to  jail.  In  the  larger  cities  and  towns  a  special 
place  of  detention  for  juvenile  delinquents  is  provided,  the 
influences  of  which  are  intended  to  be  helpful  instead  of 
debasing. 

The  good  effect  of  the  juvenile  court  often  reaches  to 
the  gang  from  which  the  boy  comes.  A  new  attitude  on  the 
part  of  the  boys  is  developed  toward  law  and  government  no 
longer  represented  solely  by  the  uncomprehending  policeman, 
the  street  boy's  hereditary  foe.  Even  the  policeman  himself 

1  It  is  reported  that  during  a  certain  period  454  cases  were  brought 
before  the  juvenile  court  of  Denver  at  a  cost  of  $14,648,  which  other- 
wise would  have  come  under  regular  criminal  court  procedure  at  a 
cost  of  $105,455.60,  and  that  in  three  years  the  saving  by  this  means 
was  $288,000. 


CRIME  AND  ITS  TREATMENT  627 

may  catch  some  new  ideas  concerning  the  treatment  of  boys. 
And  the  boys  through  association  with  the  judge  and  the 
probation  officer  have  opportunity  to  catch  the  view  of  a 
civilized  and  even  a  public-spirited  life  policy  which  often 
they  otherwise  would  fail  to  get. 

War. — War  is  not  crime  because  there  is  no  authority  com- 
petent to  make  and  enforce  criminal  laws  against  the  acts  of 
nations.  Except  for  this  difference  war  is  crime  raised  to 
the  nth  power. 

War  is  instinctive  action.  The  instinct  of  partisanship, 
which  on  one  side  is  loyalty  and  devotion,  on  the  other  side 
bigotry  and  hate,  the  instinct  of  dominance  which  makes  the 
strong  love  to  assert  their  strength  over  rivals,  and  the  instinct 
of  pugnacity  urge  nations  to  war. 

The  very  same  instincts  urge  tribes  and  clans  to  feuds  and 
strong  and  assertive  individuals  to  broils.  Feuds  and  broils 
are  condemned  by  popular  sentiment  and  almost  suppressed 
in  civilized  society  because  there  is  a  power  strong  enough 
to  discipline  individuals  and  clans. 

If  there  were  an  authority  powerful  enough  to  discipline 
the  nations  it  would  certainly  make  criminal  laws  which  would 
punish  the  violation  of  treaties  and  the  warlike  invasion 
of  territory.  Every  reason  against  private  perfidy  and 
violence  holds  good  against  war.  War  is  not  the  expres- 
sion of  reason  but  of  instinct,  and  there  is  no  such  thing 
as  civilization  on  the  level  of  reasonless  instinct.  As 
chieftains  punished  broils  because  they  weakened  the 
group,  so  an  authority  capable  of  legislating  for  the  na- 
tions would  punish  wars  because  they  weaken  the  inter- 
national society  of  the  civilized  world.  The  periodic  destruc- 
tion of  wealth  by  war  postpones  the  time  when  universal  plenty 
will  extend  to  every  normal  life.  The  resources  consumed  by 
war  would  suffice  to  finance  every  plan  of  progress,  that  is 
now  postponed.1 

1  "Many  men  keep  in  their  minds  some  particular  piece  of  possible 
expenditure  which  they  think  to  be  needed,  and  against  which  as  a 
'.nargin'  they  balance  alternative  expenditure.  I  sometimes  use  for 
this  purpose  the  5,000  children  who,  in  the  poorer  parts  of  London. 


628  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

Most  great  wars  are  .fratricidal.  The  worst  wars  and  the 
worst  misunderstandings,  prejudices  and  hatreds  bred  by  war 
are  as  a  rule  between  strong  nations  closely  akin.  The  ulti- 
mate struggle  for  world  supremacy  is  to  be  between  the 
pioneering  white  race,  and  the  prolific,  patient,  deft,  disease- 
resisting,  light-feeding  yellow  race.  A  European  war  is  like 
the  feuds  between  the  Saxon  kings  which  made  them  the  prey 
of  the  Danes,  and  the  inter-tribal  hostility  of  the  Indians  which 
made  them  unable  to  resist  the  early  feeble  colonies  of  whites 
in  North  America.  We  wonder  at  their  folly  but  we  are 
governed  by  the  same  instincts.  All  great  nations  are  brave; 
it  is  silly  vanity  for  any  one  of  them  to  claim  unique  excel- 
lence in  this  respect.  Triumph  and  predominance  in  the  final 
balance  between  the  peoples  of  the  earth  as  to  their  participa- 
tion in  coming  history,  whether  won  by  warlike  or  by  peaceful 
competition,  will  not  be  decided  by  mere  physical  courage 
and  pugnacity  but  by  .other  qualities,  including  reasonable 
wisdom. 

The  saying  of  Dr.  Wines  that  "crime  is  imbecility,  and  it 
is  as  impossible  to  regard  it  with  intellectual  respect  as  it  is 
to  regard  it  with  moral  approval,"  is  equally  true  of  war. 
In  the  words  of  another  writer,  "Since  two  nations  find  it 
impossible  to  destroy  their  own  treasures  and  slaughter  their 
own  sons,  they  accomplish  the  same  result  by  exchanging 
work,"  and  so  they  "take  the  sword  and  perish  by  the  sword." 

The  crimes  of  individuals,  of  highwaymen  and  pirate,  often 
show  strategy  and  courage.  And  what  boy  is  beyond  finding 
pleasure  in  tales  of  outlaw  deeds?  War  has  the  zest  of  action 
at  terrific  intensity.  It  is  an  intoxication  of  instinctive  life, 
and  is  as  tempting  as  strong  drink.  Men  are  born  savages 
as  truly  as  they  are  born  naked.  We  delight  in  tales  of  battle, 

are  at  any  given  moment  kept  away  from  school  and  confined  to  their 
frowsy  living  rooms  by  ringworm.  If  the  state  were  willing  to  incur 
the  necessary  expense  ringworm  could  be  completely  stamped  out  in 
England,  and  the  present  reason  why  it  is  not  stamped  out  is  that  we 
have  preferred  to  spend  on  dreadnoughts  the  money  which  might  have 
been  given  in  subsidies  for  local  medical  treatment."  Wallas :  The 
Great  Society,  p.  168.  This  is  a  small  and  marginal  item  in  the  pro- 
gram of  amelioration. 


CRIME  AND  ITS  TREATMENT  629 

and  glorify  the  warrior  in  song  and  story.  Moreover,  the 
partisanship  of  the  individual  soldier  frequently  shows  more 
of  beautiful  devotion  than  of  hideous  prejudice  and  hate ;  and 
it  is  the  devotion  that  orators  and  poets  celebrate,  while  they 
would  let  us  forget  the  prejudice  and  hate.  But  devotion, 
strategy,  courage,  and  grim  constancy  of  determination  are 
required  in  peaceful  social  life,  without  the  foolish  bigotry 
of  prejudice  and  without  the  hate.  And  even  wrath  and  hate, 
if  they  are  good  or  necessary,  can  find  sufficient  scope  without 
the  orgy  of  war.  In  peace  all  the  greater  strength  of  devotion, 
courage,  and  constancy  is  required,  because  these  qualities  are 
not  stimulated  by  an  intoxication  of  excited  passion.  The 
percentage  of  men  who  are  morally  unequal  to  the  demands 
of  peace  indicates  that  these  demands  of  peace  are  hard  and 
high.  The  commonest  life  cannot  be  well  lived  without  the 
silent  practice  of  heroic  virtues. 

Nations  tempted  to  war  defend  and  glorify  war  and  need 
to  feel  a  world  sentiment  condemning  it,  just  as  the  ruffianly 
savage  whom  the  chief  suppressed  gloried  in  his  depredations 
until  he  felt  the  weight  of  group  opinion  and  the  strength 
of  the  chieftain's  hand.  Individuals,  dynasties,  and  nations 
can  usually  believe  that  what  they  mightily  want  to  do  is 
right.  It  often  requires  only  a  slim  show  of  reason  to  con- 
vince desire  of  its  own  justification.  The  nations  that  hoped 
to  profit  by  war,  whose  circumstances  powerfully  aroused  the 
instinctive  urgency  to  fight,  have  not  wished  to  believe  that 
war  was  wrong,  or  that  it  could  be  avoided.  The  classes 
that  have  had  social  control  in  the  nations  of  Europe  have 
maintained  a  cult  of  war,  which  holds  that  war  is  on  the 
whole  a  normal  and  desirable  expression  of  human  strength 
and  virtue,  that  its  occurrence  is  inevitable,  and  that  the  great- 
ness and  even  the  safety  of  every  nation  require  the  na- 
tions to  go  armed  like  the  men  in  a  lawless  mining  camp.  The 
last  item  in  this  cult  may  be  true  so  long  as  the  first  two 
are  believed.  This  creed  taken  as  a  whole  is  in  part  a  sur- 
vival from  a  more  brutal  past  and  in  part  an  instance  of 
the  power  of  social  control  to  mold  public  sentiment  and 
belief.  It  contains  only  enough  elements  of  plausibility  to 


630  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

make  its  falsehood  dangerous.  It  is  the  existence  of  this 
cult  that  has  done  most  to  create  a  situation  which  ought 
to  be  the  final  reductio  ad  absurdum  of  war,  a  situation  in 
which  vast  populations,  made  up  for  the  most  part  of  peace- 
able, loveable,  and  industrious  individuals,  whose  best  in- 
stincts are  far  more  violated  than  expressed  thereby,  are 
forced  unwillingly  and  in  self-defense  to  enter  into  a  terrific 
struggle  to  destroy  each  other.  As  yet  war  is  inevitable,  but 
this  in  our  day  is  due  only  in  a  subordinate  degree  to  the 
fact  that  fierce  instincts  and  economic  rivalry  are  not  bal- 
anced by  good  will  and  reason;  it  is  due  more  to  the  fact 
that  the  past  reign  of  force  has  left  unstable  boundaries  of 
states  and  a  heritage  of  hate  and  fear.  Most  of  all,  war 
is  inevitable  to-day  because  men  think  it  so  and  have  devised 
the  mechanism  of  war  instead  of  the  mechanism  of  peace.  If 
the  nations  get  enough  of  war  so  that  they  break  the  spell 
of  this  erroneous  creed  and  set  their  hearts  on  peace,  they 
will  have  no  difficulty  in  finding  abundant  reasons  to  prove 
that  war  is  wrong  or  in  devising  a  program  for  the  promo- 
tion of  peace. 

That  program,  however,  must  itself  be  in  some  degree 
warlike.  Those  nations  that  propose  to  establish  peace  must 
arm  as  the  policeman  does,  and  may  even  invade,  as  the 
policeman  does  when  provided  with  a  warrant  to  search  and 
seize.  A  coalition  of  nations  adequate  to  command  the  respect 
of  the  world  and  strong  enough  to  punish  a  criminal  nation 
must  undertake  to  act  as  the  ally  of  any  nation  that  is  obliged 
to  defend  itself  against  robbery  and  murder.  It  could  also 
announce  itself  as  the  ally  of  any  nation  that  was  ready  to 
submit  its  dispute  to  adjudication  and  abide  by  the  result, 
as  against  an  opposing  nation  that  refused  to  accept  the  legal 
settlement  of  its  dispute.  An  international  public  sentiment 
expressed  in  such  a  coalition  could  establish  a  world  peace. 
It  is  hard  to  see  that  any  other  means  could  accomplish  that 
infinitely  to  be  desired  end.  The  accomplishment  of  that 
end  alone  can  justify  the  right  of  mankind  to  its  self-chosen 
title  of  homo  sapiens.  There  ought  soon  to  be  such  a  coalition 
of  nations  in  the  new  world,  pledged  to  the  proposition  that 


CRIME  AND  ITS  TREATMENT  631 

there  shall  never  be  another  international  war  in  this  hemis- 
phere. 

Such  a  coalition  must  set  itself  against  the  aggrandize- 
ment of  the  strong  by  forcible  acquisition  of  new  territory, 
and  must  exercise  its  power  to  secure  the  drawing  of  national 
boundaries  with  reference  to  ties  of  blood  and  of  culture, 
the  only  method  that  will  conduce  to  peace  and  happiness. 
Future  conquest  of  territory  must  be  by  a  method  that  can 
be  more  effective  than  war  and  wholly  beneficial;  namely,  by 
peaceful  migration  of  members  of  the  expanding  and  domi- 
nating race  and  by  the  spread  of  the  ideas  and  sentiments 
and  enlightened  practices  which  such  a  race  originates. 

The  exercise  of  force  by  a  strong  coalition,  though  it  be 
the  main  agency  in  the  establishment  of  peace  among  the 
nations,  is  not  the  only  agency  that  will  play  a  part.  That 
result  will  depend  also  upon  growth  of  the  international 
public  opinion  that  regards  perfidy  and  violence  by  a  nation 
as  ignominious.  And  in  part  it  will  depend  upon  the  developed 
individuality  of  the  modern  cosmopolitan,  a  type  of  individu- 
ality that  is  being  developed  through  the  same  agencies  that 
in  any  department  of  human  action  have  already  improved 
the  ratio  of  sane  reason  and  right  sentiment  to  bigotry,  pas- 
sion, and  folly.  Ultimately  the  cult  of  war,  in  so  far  as 
it  is  an  artificial  cult,  will  be  dispelled,  and  there  will  be 
a  custom  of  settling  international  questions  .by  law.  Then 
war  will  violate  the  "group-expectation"  of  the  world,  and 
will  be  as  bad  form  as  a  broil  between  gentlemen. 

Those  who  prove  the  impracticability  of  a  condition  in 
which  nations  will  be  as  peaceable  and  as  law-abiding  as 
individuals  have  become,  are  in  a  position  like  that  of  those 
who  proved  the  impracticability  of  democratic  government, 
of  the  abolition  of  slavery,  of  railroads,  and  of  every  great 
project  that  has  ever  broken  with  the  past.1 

lrrhe  section  beginning  on  p.  648  is  an  essential  part  of  the  dis- 
cussion of  war. 


CHAPTER    XXXIV 

RELIGION,  PUBLIC  OPINION,  AND  POLITICS  AS  AGENCIES 
OF  SOCIAL  CONTROL 

Legal  -Religion. — When  studying  the  evolution  of  religion 
we  saw  that  religion  originally  had  no  connection  with 
righteousness.  Even  to  this  day  legal  religion  spends  its 
heaviest  thunderings  upon  the  enforcement  of  observances 
and  other  strictly  religious  requirements  and  sets  an  absurdly 
low  estimate  upon  "mere  morality."  In  its  origin  religion 
was  simply  a  way  of  avoiding  the  disfavor  and  securing  the 
favor  of  unseen  powers  by  means  of  "ritual."  Men  had 
little  or  no  thought  that  the  unseen  beings  would  be  pleased 
with  socially  beneficent  conduct.  We  have  seen  also  how 
naturally  fear  of  the  wrath  or  desire  for  the  favor  of  the 
spirits  of  departed  ancestors  became  a  means  of  enforcing 
tribal  customs  and  group  morality,  and  how  the  ruling  chief 
or  patriarch  or  prophet  was  prone  to  threaten  not  only  the 
sanctions  of  his  own  wrath  but  also  those  of  the  offended 
deities,  and  to  promise  rewards  which  living  rulers  could 
not  bestow.  In  this  way  legal  religion  became  a  bulwark 
of  earthly  sovereignty  and  all  of  the  chief  means  of  social 
control  were  consolidated  in  the  hands  of  one  ruling  class. 
This  has  been  the  case  until  the  recent  popular  demand 
for  separation  between  church  and  state.  Indeed  it  is  so 
still  to  a  considerable  degree  in  all  monarchical  countries 
with  "established"  churches.  Of  this  Russia  is  the  extreme 
example,  but  even  democratic  England  preserves  decided 
remnants  of  this  consolidation  of  earthly  and  divine  authority. 
Where  this  is  true  the  powerful  influence  of  the  church  min- 
gles suggestions  of  loyalty  to  an  earthly  ruling  class  with 
the  very  prayers  of  the  people,  and  a  Tory  Heaven  blesses 
dutiful  adherence  to  the  existing  regime.  In  very  early  stages 

632 


RELIGION,  PUBLIC  OPINION.  AND  POLITICS     633 

of  social  development  the  sanctions  of  religion  were  mostly, 
if  not  wholly,  anticipated  in  this  earthly  life.  The  religious 
and  obedient  were  to  prosper  in  basket  and  in  store,  their 
flocks  should  be  free  from  murrain,  their  corn  from  blight 
and  mildew,  their  fig-trees  should  not  cast  their  unripe  figs, 
they  should  divide  the  spoil  of  their  enemies,  and  their  de- 
scendants should  possess  the  land.  Even  here  and  now 
many  a  Bible  is  put  in  the  trunk  with  the  same  feelings  that 
led  the  savage  to  take  along  his  fetish ;  men  refrain  from  field 
work  on  Sunday  for  fear  their  crops  will  suffer  if  they  break 
the  holy  day,  and  contributions  are  made  to  religious  causes 
in  the  belief  that  business  prosperity  will  be  promoted  thereby. 
There  are  better  reasons  for  thus  acting. 

The  belief  in  immortality  was  undoubtedly  fostered  in 
part  because  of  its  possibilities  as  an  engine  of  social  con- 
trol. When  to  hopes  and  fears  for  this  brief  life  there  were 
added  the  most  terrific  threats  that  imagination  could  devise 
of  sufferings  to  be  eternally  endured,  there  was  a  form  of 
sanction  that  gave  pause  to  the  fiercest  passions,  and  could 
turn  the  medieval  baron  into  an  anchorite.  There  is  no 
doubt  that  among  the  effects  of  these  fears  there  has  been 
more  or  less  good.  Some  drunkards  have  been  turned  from 
their  cups;  the  hand  of  cruelty  and  the  practice  of  fraud 
have  sometimes  been  stayed.  Year  after  year  the  number  of 
illegitimate  births  in  the  poorest  and  most  ignorant  but  most 
Catholic  counties  of  Ireland  is  only  half  what  it  is  in  the 
most  prosperous  and  enlightened  counties  of  Scotland. 

It  is  no  part  of  our  task  to  raise  the  question  what  among 
all  the  teachings  of  religions  concerning  the  hereafter  is  to 
be  believed.  But  we  must  observe  the  tremendous  power 
which  belief  in  religious  sanctions  in  time  and  eternity  have 
had  and  still  have.  They  have  one  incalculable  advantage 
over  every  other  form  of  control  by  sanction,  namely,  the 
offender  does  not  have  to  be  "caught."  They  control  secret 
acts,  for  the  eye  "that  seeth  in  secret"  cannot  be  avoided 
or  deceived.  Moreover,  unlike  the  other  forms  of  control 
by  sanctions,  legal  religion  has  as  great  a  hold  upon  the  rich 
and  powerful  as  upon  the  poor  and  weak.  The  court  of 


634  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

heaven  cannot  be  defied  by  the  mighty,  bribed  by  the  rich, 
or  evaded  by  the  cunning.  This  form  of  control,  while  still 
of  great  importance,  tends  to  play  a  diminishing  role.  While 
the  religion  of  fear,  especially  in  its  cruder  forms,  lessens  in 
power,  there  are  other  aspects  of  religion  which  in  an  atmos- 
phere of  growing  intelligence  may  show  a  more  lasting  vitality. 
The  religion  of  love  dreads  to  violate  a  prized  relationship 
with  an  unseen  Friend.  And  the  religion  of  loyalty  causes 
the  worshiper  to  feel  himself  a  co-worker  in  a  Divine  sys- 
tem of  things.  The  religion  of  fear  represses  sins,  but  the 
religion  of  love  and  loyalty  ennobles  the  inner  springs  of 
life  and  calls  forth  a  devotion  of  service. 

Public  Sentiment. — Another  form  of  control  by  sanctions 
remains  to  be  considered,  and  it  is  probably  the  most  powerful 
as  well  as  the  most  original  of  all,  namely,  control  by  the 
sanctions  of  public  sentiment.  This  is  one  of  the  instinctive 
elements  in  natural  social  order. 

It  becomes  an  element  of  conscious  social  direction  not 
only  in  that  the  expression  of  social  approval  and  disapproval 
is  sometimes  prompted  by  desire  to  affect  conduct  but  also 
and  especially,  in  that  the  molding  of  public  sentiment  by 
leaders  and  by  the  folk-sense,  is  guided  by  a  knowledge  of 
its  power  over  the  conduct  of  individuals.  Reformers,  proph- 
ets, priests,  and  all  persons  in  authority,  and  also  the  folk- 
sense  of  the  multitude  are  canny  in  their  efforts  to  mold 
prevailing  sentiment  into  approval  toward  beneficial  conduct 
and  into  hostility  toward  the  conduct  which  is  feared.  Prac- 
tically every  one  of  us  in  the  expressions  of  approval  and 
disapproval  with  which  common  conversation  is  highly  spiced 
exercises  a  power  that  may  surpass  the  power  of  the  ballot 
in  enforcing  the  public  will  and  also  in  shaping  the  public 
will.  This  is  the  most  democratic  of  all  forms  of  govern- 
ment. This  direct  pressure  of  public  sentiment  exercises 
control  over  the  conduct  of  every  member  of  society.  Yet 
democratic  as  it  is,  even  this  agency  of  control  can  be  turned 
into  a  bulwark  of.  class  privilege  through  the  activity  of 
those  who  control  the  education  of  public  sentiment.  How- 
ever, there  is  not  one  of  us  but  may  have  a  voice  in  mold- 


RELIGION,  PUBLIC  OPINION,  AND  POLITICS     635 

• 

ing  public  opinion,  and  the  expressions  of  most  of  us  are 
in  some  degree  influenced  by  a  dim  or  vivid  consciousness 
that  we  exercise  this  power.  Public  sentiment  is  largely 
an  expression  of  emotional  likes  and  dislikes,  rather  than  of 
rational  judgments,  but  it  is  also  an  expression  of  practical 
fears  and  hopes.  We  all  condemn  the  conduct  that  seems 
likely  to  imperil  our  interests,  while  we  praise  the  conduct 
that  promises  us  benefits. 

The  sanctions  of  public  sentiment  unlike  those  of  law, 
as  law  is  now  administered,  include  rewards  equally  with 
punishments;  therefore,  this  agency  has  power  not  only  to 
repress  bad  conduct,  but  also  to  elicit  the  conduct  that  is 
socially  desired. 

And  the  power  of  public  sentiment  is  stupendous.  Even 
the  law  depends  for  its  efficiency  upon  the  force  of  public 
sentiment.  Not  only  is  it  true  that  without  public  sentiment 
convictions  are  difficult  or  impossible  to  secure,  and  laws 
likely  to  become  "dead  letters"  but  even  when  conviction  has 
taken  place  the  fact  that  conviction  carries  "with  it  social  con- 
demnation is  what  chiefly  gives  to  legal  penalties  their  sting. 
"Thirty  days  in  jail"  has  a  social  significance  vastly  more 
deterrent  than  the  deprivation  of  comfort  and  liberty.  Suc- 
cess is  in  general  largely  the  gift  of  our  associates,  and  de- 
pends upon  our  taking  the  courses  which  they  approve,  and 
failure  is  the  penalty  of  their  condemnation.  Moreover,  we 
are  so  constituted  that  our  happiness  or  our  misery  are  directly 
conditioned  by  the  attitude  of  our  fellows.  Affection  and 
respect  make  a  man  rich,  of  whatever  else  he  may  be  de- 
prived; without  them,  though  possessed  of  every  other  good, 
he  is  in  bitter  poverty.  Complete  withdrawal  of  respect, 
esteem,  and  recognition  affect  us  as  the  frosts  of  autumn 
affect  the  flowers,  but  when  they  are  given  us  all  our  powers 
unfold  and  blossom  like  flowers  in  the  sunshine  of  spring. 

Besides  the  fact  that  it  has  power  as  great  to  elicit 
good  conduct  as  to  repress  the  bad,  public  sentiment,  as  an 
agency  of  control,  has  this  further  advantage  over  the  law, 
that  it  requires  no  doubtful,  difficult,  and  expensive  process 
of  conviction, 


636  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

The  clumsy  and  uncertain  hammer  of  the  law  comes 
down  upon  certain  of  the  most  outstanding  faults,  but  the 
pneumatic  pressure  of  group  sentiment  enters  into  the  re- 
cesses and  crevices  of  conduct.'  It  presses  lightly  upon  small 
derelictions,  and  overwhelms  great  sins  with  its  ruinous  weight. 
It  even  finds  its  way  within  our  own  bosoms  and  becomes 
the  voice  of  conscience. 

Yet  it  is  not  a  perfect  agency  of  control  because  it  is 
sometimes  foolish  and  never  altogether  wise.  It  has  the 
power  to  elicit  any  form  of  service  up  to  the  very  measure 
of  human  possibility.  Men  will  "seek  glory  e'en  at  the  can- 
non's mouth."  It  can  repress  instincts,  evoke  heroism,  turn 
the  ambition  of  men  toward  art,  literature,  science,  and  con- 
structive statesmanship.  But  it  may  shower  its  rewards  instead 
upon  the  prize-fighter,  the  soubrette,  the  boss,  and  the  suc- 
cessful' speculator.  It  may  stone  the  prophets,  and  damn 
its  benefactors  with  faint  praise.  It  may  rage  at  harmless 
offenses  against  custom  like  vegetarianism,  long  hair,  or 
bloomers,  while  customary  grossness  goes  unrebuked,  and 
familiar  sins  unpunished.  Moreover,  it  may  be  servile  before 
the  rich  and  great.  It  hushes  its  condemnation  if  the  liaison 
is  that  of  a  prince,  and  toward  the  rich  sybarite  and  the  suc- 
cessful slave  of  mammon  its  smile  does  not  freeze  into  the 
merited  frowning  scorn  and  its  cordiality  is  not  transmuted 
into  the  cold  shoulder  of  ostracism.  And  in  the  populous  city 
the  common  sinner  escapes  the  visitations  of  public  sentiment 
under  the  cloud  of  anonymity,  or  seeks  sociability  in  a  circle 
of  his  own  kind.  And  the  control  of  public  sentiment  is 
baffled  when  responsibility  is  not  individualized,  but  spread 
out  over  a  "board  of  directors"  or  an  administrative  "depart- 
ment" ' 

However,  public  sentiment  remains  the  most  original  and 
pervasive  and  probably  also  the  most  powerful  of  all  the 
agencies  of  social  control  by  sanction.  It  is  capable  of  pro- 
gressive development,  as  the  experience  of  ages  becomes  crys- 
tallized in  definite  judgments,  incorporated  into  the  "common- 
sense"  ;  as  newly  developed  possibilities  of  good  and  evil  be- 
come more  generally  understood ;  as  the  general  level  of  per- 


RELIGION,  PUBLIC  OPINION,  AND  POLITICS     637 

sonality  is  raised  by  the  agencies  of  education;  and  as  the 
method  of  organization  gives  increasing  definiteness  and  pub- 
licity to  social  responsibility. 

Politics  in  the  Light  of  Sociological  Principles. — The  prin- 
ciples of  sociology  are  applicable  to  politics  as  to  all  other 
forms  of  social  activity.  Politics,  whatever  else  it  may  be, 
is  primarily  a  method  of  social  control.  Political  control  in 
its  characteristic  form  is  control  by  sanctions.  Political  activ- 
ity may  be  directed  toward  other  aims  than  the  preservation 
of  social  order  by  the  operation  of  sanctions,  but  even  when 
directed  toward  economic  or  educational  ends  its  peculiar 
effectiveness  depends  upon  the  fact  that  it  is  founded  upon 
the  police  power,  the  power  to  control  by  sanctions  which 
renders  possible  the  collection  of  taxes,  and  the  enforce- 
ment of  other  requirements. 

A  democratic  state  is  an  independent  political  society, 
organized  to  promote  the  interest  of  its  members  through  the 
exercise  of  sovereignty.  All  the  legal  powers  of  minor  political 
units  as  cities,  rest  back  upon  the  sovereign  power.  Sovereignty 
is  that  power  which  no  other  power  within  the  state  can 
successfully  oppose. 

Politics,  like  agriculture,  medicine,  and  the  other  great 
practical  arts,  made  progress  by  the  method  of  trial  and 
error,  before  there  was  any  fundamental  science  by  which 
it  could  be  guided.  But  political  institutions  are  evolved,1 
and  political  movements  take  place,  in  accordance  with  the 
causal  principles  elaborated  by  sociology.  Without  attempt- 
ing here  to  make  any  detailed  applications  of  sociological 
principles  to  political  phenomena  two  remarks  may  be  made. 

i.  In  the  deepest  sense,  the  real  constitution  of  a  state 
is  not  a  written  document,  but  an  actual  situation  created 
by  prevalent  ideas  and  sentiments.  Some  of  these  ideas  form 
institutions;  others  are  of  a  more  fleeting  or  irrational  char- 
acter. It  is  constitutionality  as  tested  by  this  pervasive  but 
subtle  and  complex  unwritten  constitution  (of  opinions  and 
sentiments)  that  sets  the  bounds  and  prescribes  the  methods 
of  successful  legislation.  It  is  the  amendment  of  this  un- 

1  Compare  Part  iii,  "Social  Evolution." 


638  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

written  constitution  that  is  the  fundamental  reform.  The 
written  constitution  of  the  United  States  is  that  of  an  aris- 
tocratic confederacy;  the  unwritten  constitution  has  become 
modified  into  that  of  a  federal  union  of  far  more  democratic 
character.  If  England  had  a  written  constitution  it  would 
be  that  of  a  monarchy,  but  though  it  has  a  king  and  lords,  by 
virtue  of  its  unwritten  constitution  it  is  politically  the  most 
democratic  country  in  the  world.  The  written  constitution 
of  Mexico  and  of  the  troubled  South  American  republics  are 
modeled  after  that  of  the  United  States,  but  it  is  the  un- 
written social  constitution  that  really  governs,  or  fails  to 
govern,  and  these  in  such  republics  are  vastly  different  from 
that  of  the  United  States.  It  is  the  study  of  this  social  con- 
stitution and  the  method  of  its  life — for  it  is  a  living  thing, 
that  is,  a  thing  composed  of  activities,  and  constantly  evolving 
— that  can  make  our  political  knowledge  more  than  em- 
pirical. 

Laws  grow;  they  are  not  made,  save  in  a  limited  sense. 
There  were  laws  long  before  there  were  constitutional  assem- 
blies or  legislatures.  And  the  statesman  is  like  the  gardener 
who  cultivates  and .  reaps  a  crop,  more  than  he  is  like  a 
mechanic  who  fashions  what  he  will.  There  is  much  truth, 
if  some  exaggeration,  in  the  simile  which  compares  the  legis- 
lator to  the  grammarian  who  does  not  make  the  laws  of  lan- 
guages but  discovers,  states,  and  helps  to  enforce  the  laws 
which  usage  makes.  It  is  true  that  legislators  are  among  the 
leaders  of  the  people,  and  law  is  one  of  the  agencies  for 
forming  public  opinion,  but  it  is  only  one;  and-  it  is  more 
an  instrument  for  carrying  public  opinion  into  effect.  It  is 
a  part  of  the  function  of  intelligent  legislators  to  ally  them- 
selves with  the  wisest  and  best  leaders  of  the  people.  Good 
legislation  in  general  sets  down  only  that  which  largely  has 
become,  or  is  on  the  point  of  becoming,  the  will  of  the  social 
sovereign.1  But  there  is  often  division  and  opposition  among 

1"The  idea  that  institutions  (legislative  enactments)  can  remedy 
the  defects  of  society  and  that  ..social  changes  can  be  effected  by 
decrees,  is  still  generally  accepted,  and  the  social  theories  of  the 
present  day  are  based  upon  it.  The  most  continuous  experience  has 


RELIGION,  PUBLIC  OPINION,  AND  POLITICS     639 

the  wills  of  the  citizens,  and  this  gives  rise  to  the  strife  of 
parties  and  calls  for  the  second  remark: 

Interest  Groups. — 2.  Fundamentally  considered,  the  par- 
ties that  determine  the  politics  of  a  state  are  the  interest 
groups  within  the  state.1  Those  persons  who  agree  in  be- 
lieving that  a  given  political  arrangement  for  any  reason 
would  prove  a  means  to  their  ends  constitute  a  political  party, 
as  also  do  all  those  who  believe  that  a  proposed  arrangement 
would  prove  detrimental  to  their  interests.  The  manufac- 
turers of  woolen  goods  are  an  interest  group,  so  also  are 
the  importers,  consumers  of  woolens,  wage  workers,  coal 
operators,  bankers,  railroads,  debtor  class,  farmers,  lawyers, 
educators,  wets,  drys,  and  many  more.  A  new  proposal  may 
awaken  many  supporting  or  opposing  interests  into  activity. 
Common  interests  are  the  dynamic  factors  in  terms  of  which 
political  activities  are  to  be  interpreted.  There  are  vicarious 
or  ideal  interests  in  politics  as  well  as  selfish  interests,  all  of 
which  may  be  summed  up  in  one  phrase :  the  •  interest  in 
justice.  Each  interest  group  seeks  to  attach  to  itself  not 
only  all  those  who  share  the  particular  interest,  but  also  all 
who  can  be  induced  to  adopt  it  as  a  vicarious  ideal  interest. 
Each  group  tends  to  present  its  proposition  as  an  application 
of  some  generally  accepted  principle,  as  beneficial  to  society 
at  large  and  as  beneficial  to  certain  other  interest  groups,  and 
may  say  very  little  to  the  general  public  about  the  interest 
most  directly  affected  and  most  actively  engaged  in  promoting 
the  proposal. 

been  unsuccessful  in  shaking  this  grave  delusion.  .  .  .  Institutions  are 
the  outcome  of  ideas,  sentiments,  and  customs;  and  ideas,  sentiments, 
and  customs  are  not  to  be  -recast  by  recasting  legislative  codes.  A 
nation  does  not  choose  its  institutions  at  will  any  more  than  it  chooses 
the  color  of  its  hair  or  of  its  eyes."  Gustave  Le  Bon:  The  Crowd, 
Unwin,  1903,  p.  97.  But  a  society  can  slowly  modify  both  its  written 
and  its  unwritten  laws  if  its  leaders  understand  the  method  of  their 
growth  and  know  both  the  part  that  legislation  can  play,  and  also  what 
must  be  affected  by  other  agencies.  More  can  be  done  than  many  think 
— not  less — by  all  the  agencies  of  social  change  working  together,  pro- 
vided the  complex  method  of  such  change  is  understood. 
1  Compare  p.  428. 


640  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

The  fighting  strength  of  an  interest  group,  even  in  a 
republic,  is  very  far  from  depending  solely  upon  its  numbers. 
It  depends  somewhat  upon  numbers,  but  also  (i)  upon 
geographic  proximity  and  on  the  circumstances  that  facilitate 
cooperation  and  organization.  Farm  hands,  domestic  servants, 
or  sweat-shop  workers  are  in  this  respect  at  a  disadvantage 
when  compared " with  factory  laborers.  (2)  It  depends  upon 
wealth  that  makes  travel  feasible  and  easy,  and  communica- 
tion facile,  commands  leisure,  can  employ  ability,  and  own 
newspapers;  (3)  upon  the  intelligence,  ability,  and  prestige 
of  its  leaders ;  and  above  all  upon  (4)  the  possession  of  an 
indefatigable  working  nucleus.  A  mere  majority  in  num- 
bers is  by  no  means  certain  to  have  its  way. 

*The  organizations  that  we  commonly  recognize  as  political 
parties,  Democratic,  Republican,  etc.,  are  few,  but  the  interest 
groups  which  are  the  ultimate  political  factors  and  actual 
parties  at  interest,  in  each  great  case  that  is  pleaded  before 
the  jury  of  the  electorate,  are  many.  Politicians  of  each  of 
the  political  organizations  form  an  interest  group  who  derive 
great  and  special  advantages  from  carrying  elections  quite 
distinct  from  those  which  accrue  to  the  general  public.  These 
peculiar  advantages  which  the  politicians  derive  from  carrying 
elections  consist  in  honors,  emoluments,  and  power  to  confer 
and  receive  special  favors.  The  current  theory  is  that  the 
candidates  of  each  of  the  great  political  organizations  com- 
mand the  loyalty  of  their  many  followers  "by  devotion  to  cer- 
tain broad  policies  upon  which  "the  general  welfare  of  the 
country"  or  "the  greatest  good  of  the  greatest  number"  de- 
pends, such  policies  as  federalism  versus  state  sovereignty, 
free  trade  versus  protection,  anti-imperialism,  direct  legis- 
lation, etc.,  and.  therefore  that  every*  citizen  who  knows  his 
own  mind  upon  these  great  principles  will  be  the  loyal  and 
consistent  adherent  of  one  or  the  other  of  the  great  political 
organizations.  There  is  a  certain  amount  of  truth  in  this 
theory;  no  falsehood  is  likely  to  be  dangerous  long  unless  it 
contains  some  admixture  of  truth.  It  would  be  on  the  whole, 
however,  a  truer  and  a  safer  view  to  hold  that  the  candi- 
dates and  potential  candidates  and  typical  party  workers  of 


RELIGION,  PUBLIC  OPINION,  AND  POLITICS     641 

each  political  organization  constitute  one  interest  group  out 
of  the  many  and  that  their  interest  is  in  carrying  elections 
for  the  private  reasons  above  mentioned.  The  success  of 
each  politician  is  generally  bound  up  with  the  success  of  the 
party,  so  that  they  work  together  for  the  success  of  all  their 
colleagues.  Some  of  them  desire  office  in  order  to  serve 
public  ends  in  the  spirit  of  disinterested  patriots,  as  some 
lawyers  desire  clients  in  order  to  promote  justice;  but  they 
all  desire  to  carry  elections,  whether  it  be  in  order  that 
they  may  serve  the  public,  or  in  order  that  they  may  pro- 
mote business  schemes  in  which  they  are  engaged,  or  for 
the  sake  of  honors  and  emoluments  and  spoils,  or  for  any 
combination  of  these  motives.  These  interest  groups,  the 
politicians  of  various  "parties,"  select  and  advocate  the  meas- 
ures that  will  promote  the  interests  which  they  have  at  heart 
as  individuals,  as  a  result  of  their  class  biases,  business  con- 
nections, or  public-spirited  convictions,  in  so  far  as  doing 
so  will  not  too  much  endanger  their  chances  of  election  or 
reelection,  and  they  also  champion  sincerely  or  otherwise  the 
high-sounding  generalities  that  may  rally  votes  but  involve 
no  immediate  and  definite  action,  and  especially  they  fill  their 
platforms  and  legislative  programs  with  proposals  calculated 
to  appeal  to  the  interests  of  just  as  many  interest  groups  as 
is  possible  without  too  much  offending  one  interest  group 
by  what  they  offer  to  another.  They  stock  up  with  issues 
that  they  believe  will  "take"  with  the  public,  much  as  a 
merchant  stocks  up  with  goods  which  he  thinks  will  sell. 
The  politicians  are  purveyors  of  two  of  the  prime  necessaries 
of  life,  officials  and  laws,  as  the  merchants  are  purveyors  of 
goods.  Their  study  of  the  public  demand  is  on  the  whole 
a  tolerable  way  to  secure  the  offering  of  what  the  public 
wants,  provided  the  public  really  selects  from  what  is  put 
before  it  and  not  merely  accepts  whatever  chances  to  be 
offered,  and  having  selected  insists  that  the  goods  shall  be 
delivered.  In  the  matter  of  goods  we  do  select  what  suits 
us,  and  we  do  insist  on  getting  what  we  bargained  for.  But 
in  the  matter  of  candidates  and  laws  we  have  behaved  like 
customers  who  always  bought  groceries  of  Smith  and  paid 


642  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

him  so  much  a  month  whether  Smith  sold  fresh  eggs  or  old, 
good  brands  or  adulterated  and  unwholesome,  full  measure 
or  short  weight,  declaring  all  the  time  that  they  knew  their 
own  minds  and  that  nothing  could  induce  them  to  buy  of 
Jones.  Under  those  conditions  both  Smith  and  Jones  might 
cheat  and  defraud  and  poison  their  customers  as  long  as 
their  blind  adherence  was  kept  up.  The  only  way  to  make 
either  dealer  put  in  honest  stock  and  the  selection  which  his 
customers  want  would  be  to  induce  the  public  to  buy  where 
they  could  buy  best.  There  are  honest  and  patriotic  poli- 
ticians. It  is  a  base  slander  to  think  otherwise.  And  they 
are  the  very  ones  who  most  often  urge  us  to  vote  independ- 
ently for  the  best  men  and  measures,  while  the  less  admirable 
politicians  are  loud  in  urging  unswerving  loyalty  to  party.1 
There  is  to-day  no  more  reason  for  unswerving  loyalty  to 
either  of  the  historic  parties  as  such  aside  from  sentimental 
ones,  than  there  are  reasons  aside  from  sentimental  ones  for 
cleaving  through  thick  and  thin  to  one  clothier  or  grocer. 
The  good  citizen  who  in  one  state  or  in  one  year  or  for  one 
official  ought  to  vote  with  one  party,  in  another  state  or  in 
another  year  or  for  another  official,  ought  to  vote  with  an 
opposing  party.  The  issues  that  called  each  of  the  greatest 
parties  into  existence  are  now  past  history.  But  the  organi- 
zations once  perfected,  the  politicians  do  not  let  them  dis- 
solve simply  because  the  issues  that  called  them  into  being  are 
long  since  settled  or  fallen  into  minor  importance.  They  find 
the  party  machinery  far  too  valuable  for  their  purposes.  The 
advocates  of  party  loyalty  tell  us  that  party  organization  is 
necessary  not  only  to  the  interest  group  that  keeps  it  in  repair, 
but  necessary  also  to  the  maintenance  of  democratic  govern- 

1  It  is  no  longer  possible  for  politicians  to  make  the  public  swallow 
unhesitatingly  the  old  doctrine  that  "to  the  victors  belong  the  spoils" 
and  that  fair  play  demands  "rotation  in  office."  These  imply  the 
absurd  conception  that  offices  exist  primarily  for  the  benefit  of  the 
officeholders,  and  such  notions  are  destructive  of  public  efficiency.  But 
the  politicians  do  still  retain,  along  with  the  heresy  of  "voting 
straight,"  a  senseless  complexity  in  government  that  obscures  respon- 
sibility, bewilders  the  electorate,  and  tends  to  defeat  democracy.  Com- 
mon-sense demands  the  short  ballot. 


643 

ment.  This  seems  at  present  to  be  true.  But  the  group 
whose  special  interest  it  is  to  maintain  these  organizations 
will  do  so  with  or  without  the  bigoted  loyalty  of  the  rest  of 
us,  just  as  merchants  will  keep  their  stores  without  the  bigoted 
loyalty  of  their  customers.  -It  is  the  right  of  every  voter  to 
identify  himself  with  one  or  the  other  of  these  political 
organizations  for  the  sake  of  participating  in  the  nomina- 
tion of  candidates  or  seeking  his  own  election  to  office.  No 
one  can  belong  to  more  than  one  party  at  the  same  time  for 
the  purpose  of  nominating  candidates.  But  every  suffrage 
holder  is  an  elector  as  well  as  a  nominator.  Nominating  must 
be  through  one  chosen  party.  Voting  at  election  need  not 
be  for  one  party.  One  has  no  obligation  to  vote  for  a  candi- 
date of  his  own  party  whose  nomination  he  did  not  approve; 
no  one  has  a  right  to  do  so  when  another  party  has  nominated 
a  candidate  who  is  on  the  whole  more  desirable.  Many  an 
elector  never  elects,  that  is,  never  exercises  any  choice  as  to 
whether  he  shall  vote  for  one  candidate  or  another  for  office, 
but  only  ratifies  as  a  matter  of  course  the  nominations  of 
his  party,  good  or  bad.  As  long  as  the  politicians  can  keep 
alive  this  practice  they  are  likely  to  be  able  to  subvert  self- 
government  of  the  people.  Perhaps  only  the  more  intelligent 
can  escape  the  bonds  of  habit,  the  hypnotism  of  names  and 
of  the  glories  of  the  past  which  each  party  that  has  survived 
a  generation  is  sure  to  possess  in  the  eyes  of  its  adherents, 
and  overcome  the  instinctive  tendency  to  take  sides,  like 
shouting  spectators  at  a  football  match,  sufficiently  to  actually 
elect  between  candidates.  If  so,  it  is  to  be  hoped  that  there 
will  be  enough  of  the  more  intelligent  to  hold  the  balance  of 
power. 

The  Inclusive  Political  Interest. — The  state  as  a  whole  is  an 
interest  group  united  by  interest  in  its  dignity  and  honor 
and  in  the  preservation  of  order  and  law.  Since  the  secur- 
ing of  any  and  all  interests  through  political  agencies  depends 
on  the  "sacredness  of  law,"  therefore  this  common  interest 
of  the  whole  state  is  superior  to  any  private  interest,  pro- 
vided law  has  not  been  so  perverted  as  to  suppress  the  struggle 
of  interests.  The  primary  purpose  of  law  and  politics  in  a 


644  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

democracy  is  to  protect  interests  against  destructive  forms 
of  struggle  and  at  the  same  time  to  facilitate  constructive 
forms  of  struggle,  to  the  end  that  all  interests  may  have 
equal  opportunity  to  express  themselves  through  governmental 
action  in  proportion  to  their  strength  as  human  motives.  The 
worst  tyranny  is  the  suppression  of  the  free  struggle  of 
interests.  Free  discussion  is  the  most  powerful  as  well  as 
the  most  constructive  of  all  political  agencies,  for  it  com- 
mands every  other  form  of  power  in  proportion  to  the 
strength  of  the  human  motives  to  which  it  appeals.  The 
exercise  of  free  discussion  therefore  is  the  essence  of  democ- 
racy. The  only  limits  that  can  properly  be  set  to  the  freedom 
of  discussion  is  the  prohibition  of  direct  incitement  to  mur- 
der or  to  the  subversion  of  all  organized  social  cooperation, 
that  is,  of  politics  as  such,  in  distinction  from  any  particular 
type  or  specific  project  of  political  action.  When  freedom 
is  lost,  rebellion  may  become  a  duty,  and  then  the  political 
criminal,  as  Jefferson  and  Emerson  teach,  may  be  the  hero. 
But  in  a  free  state  the  maintenance  of  law  is  the  supreme 
political  interest  of  all  concerned. 

According  to  the  above  view,  a  citizen  may  condemn  a 
law  and  protest  against  it  at  the  same  time  that  he  obeys  it, 
and  if  it  be  law,  then  he  ought  to  obey  it  even  while  he 
condemns  it  and  protests.  This  was  the  attitude  of  Socrates 
in  drinking  the  hemlock  to  which  the  republic  had  condemned 
him,  and  refusing  to  escape  from  death  although  the  way  of 
escape  was  open.  On  the  other  han4,  Emerson,  Jefferson, 
and  other  of  the  wisest  and  most  patriotic  spokesmen  of 
democracy  would  say  that  remonstrance  against  law  ought 
sometimes  to  take  the  form  of  violation  of  law,  though  it 
bring  the  penalties  of  the  law  upon  the  violator.  They  can 
argue  that  to  violate  law  because  the  law  is  unjust  does  not 
imperil  the  fabric  of  law  and  the  mechanism  of  freedom 
but  that  it  is  the  unjust  laws  that  imperil  the  fabric  of  free- 
dom,1 that  there  is  a  standard  for  law  which  is  above  the 
law  and  that  is  justice — a  just  regard  for  all  the  interests 

*That  unjust  laws  and  unjust  applications  of  law  imperil  freedom 
Is  true  beyond  debate. 


RELIGION,  PUBLIC  OPINION,  AND  POLITICS     645 

affected — and  that  both  those  who  make  and  those  who  en- 
force laws  must  abide  by  that  standard,  that  statutes  and 
decrees  are  law  only  when  they  proclaim  justice,  and  that 
he  who  according  to  his  own  sincere  conscience  obeys  justice 
obeys  the  law. 

They  would  grant  that  consciences  differ  and  that  an 
anarchistic  assassin  may  be  conscientious.  If  so,  then  either 
every  criminal  may  claim  immunity  on  the  ground  that  he 
obeyed  the  law  since  he  obeyed  his  own  conscience  and  the 
court  must  undertake  to  decide  what  in  fact  the  consciences 
of  criminals  do  approve ;  or  else  the  judge  must  decide  accord- 
ing to  his  own  conscience  what  the  consciences  of  the  crim- 
inal ought  to  have  approved.  In  the  last  case,  there  will 
be  no  law  till  after  the  act  and  after  the  personal  decision 
of  a  judge  in  each  case;  for  even  a  judge  is  an  individual 
with  a  conscience  before  he  is  a  judge  and  bound  like  others 
to  act  according  to  his  conscience  if  the  decision  of  his 
conscience  differs  from  that  which  the  law  decrees. 

There  are  then  two  theories :  first,  the  theory  that  every 
citizen  has  the  right  to  disregard  a  written  law  when  in 
the  opinion  of  the  actor  the  law  is  unjust;  even  more,  that 
it  is  the  bounden  duty  of  each  citizen  to  do  so,  that  this  does 
not  imperil  social  order,  for  it  gives  the  liberty  to  override 
law  only  in  case  of  sincere  conviction  that  law  is  unjust  and 
that  such  exercise  of  liberty  is  the  method  by  which  to  make 
written  laws  conform  to  actual  justice.  Second,  is  the  theory 
which  was  first  set  forth  and  is  illustrated  by  the  death  of 
Socrates,  that  even  unjust  laws  should  be  obeyed,  provided 
the  citizens  are  free  to  discuss  and  enact  laws.  That  isolated 
individuals  are  too  limited  and  biased  to  decide  the  question 
what  is  justice,  that  free  discussion  which  brings  out  all  con- 
siderations from  every  angle  of  interest,  in  the  end  will 
convince  the  mind  of  citizens  what  is  justice  so  that  the  written 
law  which  reflects  their  judgment,  though  for  a  time  it  may 
remain  in  error,  will  be  righted  as  soon  as  a  concerted  judg- 
ment of  people  has  been  reached.  And  meantime  it  must 
be  obeyed  in  order  to  avoid  chaos  and  to  secure  the  order 
which  is  the  only  guarantee  of  progress  toward  justice. 


646  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

If  the  theory  which  places  the  individual  conscience  above 
the  law  would  reduce  the  state  to  anarchy  and  give  license 
to  hypocritical  criminals,  yet  on  the  other  hand  the  absolute 
rigidity  of  law,  unless  the  law-givers  are  omniscient,  would 
involve  occasional  abuses.  The  latter  is  the  lesser  evil.  It 
can  be  reduced  to  a  minimum  by  a  certain  limited  discretionary 
power  definitely  lodged  with  the  courts,  and  by  the  devices  of 
indeterminate  sentence  and  probation  and  by  the  power  of 
pardon  which  may  be  intrusted  to  executives. 

Politics  and  Progress. — The  struggle  of  interests,  which  is 
politics,  if  free  is  evolutionary  and  results  in  a  progressive 
adaptation  of  the  organized  activity  of  the  state  to  the  service 
of  real  interests.  It  never  reaches  a  complete  and  final  adjust- 
ment because  conditions  change,  new  interests  arise,  and  old 
interests  lose  or  gain  strength.  If  on  the  whole  the  political 
struggle  has  proved  to  be  evolutionary — in  the  sense  of 
progressive — we  may  ask  why  this  is  so.  To  this  one  might 
reply :  it  is  because  the  fighting  strength  of  interest  groups 
tends  to  correspond  roughly  and  gradually  to  the  strength 
of  interests  so  that  interests  will  adjust  themselves  in  a  com- 
promise in  which  each  has  due  consideration.  But  this  is 
not  the  chief  reason,  although  there  is  a  little  truth  in  it, 
particularly  for  minor  interests  which  may  be  granted  by  a 
sort  of  automatic  log  rolling  in  order  to  facilitate  the  bitter 
struggle  for  the  main  interests  of  larger  groups.  With  refer- 
ence to  two  powerful  and  incompatible  contending 'interests 
the  tendency  of  unmitigated  struggle  is  not  toward  a  com- 
promise approaching  as  nearly  as  possible  to  due  considera- 
tion of  both,  but  to  conquest  of  the  stronger  over  the  less 
strong  and  the  tyranny  of  majorities  and  of  fighting  groups 
that  can  enlist  majorities.  Again  one  might  answer  that  the 
progressive  tendency  of  free  political  struggle  is  due  to  the 
fact  that  a  society  which  violates  and  oppresses  powerful 
interests  cannot  be  strong  and  that  the  requirements  of  na- 
tional survival  enforce  a  fair  compromise  among  the  more 
powerful  interests.  There  is  probably  a  degree  of  truth  in 
this  reply  also. 

But   there    is    yet   another   reason   why   the   struggle   of 


RELIGION,  PUBLIC  OPINION,  AND  POLITICS     647 

interests  is  progressive  and  proceeds  slowly  and  with  many 
halts  and  turnings  toward  better  adjustment  of  those  activities 
which  are  backed  by  sovereignty  to  the  requirements  of  human 
welfare.  And  this  reason  is  that  not  all  human  interests  are 
destructive  and  selfish.  Altruism  and  justice  are  as  truly 
human  predispositions  as  pugnacity,  dominance,  partisanship, 
and  greed.  This  fact  shows  its  importance  in  three  ways : 

1.  In  the  presence  of  clashing  interest  groups  there  stand, 
as  a  rule,  the  disinterested.    The  disinterested  may  be  induced 
by  party  loyalty  or  otherwise  to  lend  their  weight  to  one  of 
the  struggling  factions.     But  in  so  far  as  they  remain  disin- 
terested, that  is,  unentangled  with  either  of  the  opposing  selfish 
interests,  they  are  influenced  by  the  broad  human  interest 
of  justice.     A  large  part  of  the  time  the  disinterested  by- 
standers hold  the  balance  of  power,  and  when  neither  hood- 
winked or  cajoled  or  bribed,  the  disinterested  bystanders  are 
likely  to  lend  their  weight  to   the  support  of  justice.    The 
interest  in  justice  may  be  feebler  than  selfish  interests,  but 
it  is   real.     Moreover,  the  interest  in  justice  is  not  always 
feeble.    Like  other  interest  groups  the  bystanders,  whose  only 
interest  in  the  case  is  justice,  are  not  without  their  fighting 
nucleus.     There  are  apostolic  souls  who  are  willing  to  take 
up  the  cross   for  justice.     There  are  catabolic  and  adven- 
turous   temperaments    who,    having   economic    independence, 
can  indulge  themselves  in  the  most  exquisite  of  all  luxuries, 
that  of  fighting  for  a  righteous  cause.     Even  the  unheroic 
many  will  give  votes  and  money  to  a  good  cause,  and  in 
the  aggregate  they  give  many  votes  and  much  money.     And 
where  there  are  votes  and  money  to  be  given,  leaders  can 
be  found  who,  though  they  have  not  economic  independence 
of   their  own,   having  in   some   degree   the   altruistic   spirit, 
prefer  to  work  in  the  employment  of  the  party  of  justice^ 
rather  than  for  some  self-seeking  interest  group,  or  even  in 
more  lucrative  private  occupations. 

2.  In   the   second  place,   public  opinion,  molded  by  the 
coincident  experience  of  the  many  which  we  call  the  folk- 
sense,  or  by  the  leadership  of  the  disinterested  party,  or  of 
the  elite,  does  form  specific  moral  judgments,  which  become 


648  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

a  part  of  the  consciences  of  individuals.  Thus  are  implanted 
the  judgments  of  the  disinterested  in  the  very  bosoms  of 
the  interested.  Social  judgments  and  sentiments  absorbed 
during  the  untempted  years  of  childhood  and  youth  restrain 
the  middle  aged  sinner,  and  standards  which  the  ''interested" 
in  the  heat  of  their  selfish  struggle  would  never  have  formed, 
are  formed  for  them  and  built  into  their  habitual  reactions. 

3.  In  the  third  place,  even  in  the  heat  of  struggle  when 
selfish  propensities  are  in  full  cry  the  propensities  of  altruism 
and  justice  are  not  always  absolutely  silenced.  A  group  of 
savages  besieging  a  stockade,  when  the  day's  fight  had  ex- 
hausted the  supply  of  arms  of  the  besieged,  in  the  night 
brought  bundles  of  arrows  and  laid  them  by  the  entrance  of 
the  stronghold  in  order  that  the  fight  of  the  morrow  might 
be  fair.  They  would  not  slaughter  their  enemies  in  helpless- 
ness.1 Homer,  whoever  he  was,  knew  his  barbarians  well, 
and  he  tells  us  how  the  old  Greek  arrow-maker  refused  poison 
for  arrows  even  to  Odysseus. 

This  third  factor  may  modify  the  struggle  but  little,  but 
it  is  significant  as  showing  that  even  the  stress  of  conflict  does 
not  wholly  silence  in  the  contestants  that  inborn  propensity 
which  animates  the  disinterested  to  more  effective  support  of 
the  cause  of  justice. 

The  Principle  of  "Unmitigated  Hostility." — Those  writers, 
learned  as  they  are,  who  see  in  politics  or  business  only  a 
struggle  of  self-seeking  interest  groups  see  only  a  part  of 
the  facts.  As  long  as  human  nature  remains  what  it  is, 
justice  is  a  factor  to  be  reckoned  with.  How  far  the  evolu- 
tionary factors  will  carry  us  in  subordinating  might  to  right 
is  for  the  future  to  reveal.  But  those  who  claim  that  even 
the  inter-group  relationships  that  seem  of  all  to  be  the  least 
amenable  to  justice — those  between  the  nations — must  always 
be  a  mere  macht  politik,  or  who  claim,  as  some  do,  that 
in  every  human '  relation  "might  alone  can  give  rights"  are, 
to  say  the  best  of  their  position,  propounding  a  highly  de- 

1  That  is  said  to  have  occurred  repeatedly  among  the  Maori.  Cited 
by  Ross :  Social  Control.  From  Transactions  of  the  New  Zealand 
Institute,  i,  27. 


RELIGION,  PUBLIC  OPINION,  AND  POLITICS      649 

batable  proposition.  And  so  long  as  the  proposition  is  even 
debatable,  no  right-minded  man  has  any  business  to  despair 
of  the  reign  of  justice  in  any  of  those  relations  in  which 
sovereign  power  serves  human  interests. 

Those  who,  calling  themselves  Nietzschians,  argue  that 
struggle  is  the  only  method  of  evolution  and  that  the  duty 
of  the  strong  is  not  to  serve  an  idea  of  justice  held  in  com- 
mon by  both  strong  and  weak,  but  to  serve  their  selfish  pro- 
pensities in  order  that  the  ablest  may  survive  and  dominate 
the  world's  life,  take  as  the  major  premise  of  their  reason- 
ing a  somewhat  erroneous  conception  of  evolution.  Their 
philosophy  would  be  better  if  their  biology  were  better.  And 
since  the  conception  of  evolution  is  a  major  premise  of  much 
of  our  reasoning  on  social  matters,  it  is  worth  while  to  point 
out  wherein  those  who  reason  as  above  misconceive  the  doc- 
trine of  evolution. 

(a)  "The  struggle  for  survival"  is  not  typically  a  strug- 
gle between  members  of  the  same  species,  but  against  outside 
nature.     In  the  food  struggle  the  carnivora  prey  on  other 
creatures     as     we     do     when     we     kill     the     chicken,     the 
sheep,  and  the  ox.     The  teeth  and  claws  of  the  tiger  are 
not  evolved  for  the  destruction  of  other  tigers  but  of  ante- 
lopes.    Fang  of  tiger  and  claw  of  hawk  are  not  weapons 
of  war  but  of  the  chase.     The  fox  struggles   for  survival 
by  thickened  fur  against  winter  cold,  and  by  sharpened  cun- 
ning to  catch  rabbits  and  partridges.     A   fox  proves  him- 
self worthy  to  survive,  not  by  fighting  other  foxes,  but  by 
having  the  protective  adaptations  and  the  craft  and  cunning 
to  live  through  the  long  winter,  when  the  weather  is  freezing 
and  the  game  is  scarce  and  shy.    In  so  far  as  there  is  a  con- 
test for  survival  between  members  of  the  same  species,  it 
is  typically  not  a  fight  but  a  competition  for  a  prize.     All 
enter  the  competition,  the  prize  of  survival  is  given  to  as 
many  as  can  win  it,  and  they  win  it  not  characteristically  by 
preying    upon   or   fighting   with   their  own   species,   but   by 
adapting  to  or  preying  on  outside  nature. 

(b)  The  competition  for  survival  is  not  merely  an  indi- 
vidual but  also  a  social  struggle.    Among  the  most  intelligent 


650  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

animals,  including  man,  cooperation  is  a  means  of  survival 
and  evolution.  With  such  animals  nature  provides  for  co- 
operation within  the  group,  but  allows  her  creatures  to  prey 
upon  those  outside  their  own  group.  She  develops  a  whole 
set  of  within-the-group  instincts  of  cooperation  as  well  as 
the  instincts  for  without-the-group  exploitation.  Hostility 
within  the  group  is  thereafter  an  evil  to  be  minimized  and 
suppressed.  Within  any  circle  throughout  which  cooperation 
has  become  more  profitable  than  war,  war  is  an  anachronism. 
If  the  more  primitive  instincts  reenforced  by  antiquated  no- 
tions keep  it  alive  they  do  so  in  spite  of  reason  and  in  spite 
of  elements  in  nature  which,  though  more  recently  evolved, 
are  no  less  truly  products  of  nature's  law  of  evolution- 
ary necessity.  With  improvement  of  the  means  of  com- 
munication and  cooperation  man  can  profitably  enlarge  his 
we-group.  Already  millions  cooperate  and  the  area  of  fa- 
vorable a-nd  advantageous  cooperation  can  still  further  be 
extended. 

In  so  far  as  competition  cannot  be  displaced  it  can  take 
I^ss  costly  and  disastrous  forms  than  destructive  war  between 
the  strongest,  and  forms  much  more  likely  to  secure  the  sur- 
vival and  dominance,  rather  than  the  slaughter  and  wastage 
of  the  fittest.  The  only  point  at  which  fighting  between  mem- 
bers of  the  same  group  has  ever  had  characteristic  evolution- 
ary significance  is  the  competition  between  males  for  mates ; 
and  this  goes  on  unabated  though  changed  in  character.  Other 
forms  of  effective  but  peaceful  competition  within  the  group 
are  election  to  places  of  power  by  the  suffrages  of  the 
many,  and  competition  for  economic  patronage,  not  only 
among  producers  of  material  commodities,  but  also  among 
professional  men,  artists,  and  other  producers  of  services 
and  psychic  possessions,  in  a  minor  way,  set  examinations 
before  competent  judges,  more  especially  rational  debate  be- 
fore courts,  and  above  all  discussion  before  the  bar  of  public 
opinion.  All  of  these  are  consistent  with  a  generous  rivalry 
that  does  not  imply  hate  or  mutual  destruction. 

Within-the-group   loyalty1  and  cooperation   form  the  in- 

1  Compare  page  224. 


RELIGION,  PUBLIC  OPINION,  AND  POLITICS     651 

stinctive  prototype  of  a  cooperation  which  reason  would  make 
coextensive  with  the  advantages  of  cooperation.  Within  those 
wide  boundaries  reason  will  approve  of  much  differentiation, 
but  not  of  hate  and  hostility,  save  against  hate  and  hostility, 
injustice  and  ignorance. 


CHAPTER  XXXV 
EDUCATION 

1.  Educational  Aims  from  the  Social  Viewpoint. — Only 
the  social  viewpoint  commands  a  sufficiently  wide  outlook 
for  the  discussion  of  educational  aims.  Indeed  it  is.  only 
from  that  point  of  view  that  the  individual  is  intelligible.  This 
chapter  is  a  recapitulation  and  application  of  a  large  part  of 
all  that  has  gone  before. 

In  stating  the  principles  of  social  control1  it  was  pointed 
out  that  in  its  pursuit  of  this  aim  society  relies  upon  two 
methods :  first,  the  method  of  sanctions  or  the  offer  of  re- 
wards and  the  threat  of  punishments;  second,  the  method 
of  social  suggestion,  social  radiation,  and  imitation.  To  this 
second  method  we  shall  apply  the  name  education.  Of  course 
it  is  plain  that  we  cannot  confine  this  word  to  the  education 
received  in  schools,  but  must  realize  that  all  social  contacts 
are  parts  of  a  process  of  education.  In  that  earlier  connec- 
tion it  was  also  pointed  out  that  sanctions  are  adapted  to 
elicit  or  repress  particular  actions,  while  education  is  adapted 
to  form  the  general  disposition  and  permanent  character. 
And  it  is  upon  this  latter  achievement  that  social  order  and 
progress  mainly  and  fundamentally  rest.  The  aim  is  to 
approach  as  nearly  as  possible  the  development  of  a  type 
of  personality,  the  free  and  natural  expression  of  which  will 
attain  the  highest  correlation  which  society  has  been  able 
to  devise  between  individual  satisfaction  and  social  useful- 
ness. Whatever  else  is  desirable,  age-long  social  experience 
has  demonstrated  that  four  traits  are  essential  as  elements 
in  the  character  of  individuals  who  are  fitted  to  maintain  a 
high  and  advancing  social  order,  namely:  (i)  reliability; 
(2)  temperance  or  the  due  subordination  of  each  particular 

1  Compare  page  586. 


EDUCATION  653 

appetite,  natural  or  acquired,  to  the  requirements  of  the  whole 
of  life;  (3)  industry  or  steadiness  in  endeavor;  and  (4) 
the  social  spirit,  or  justice,  which  acts  upon  the  principle  that 
every  social  situation  is  a  piece  of  team  play  in  which  each 
has  a  part,  and  that  social  life  as  a  whole  is  a  cooperative  en- 
terprise in  which  each  receives  from  all,  vastly  more  than  he 
can  repay,  and  each  must  be  relied  upon  by  all  for  his  con- 
tribution to  common  ends  that  are  great  enough  to  out- 
weigh private  considerations  and  supply  an  ennobling  and 
dynamic  motive. 

It  was  also  pointed  out  that  the  end  and  aim  of  all  social 
control,  as  of  every  rational  endeavor,  is  good  human  experi- 
ence. Wherefore  no  life  is  to  be  treated  as  a  mere  means, 
but  also  as  an  end  1  in  itself.  Every  individual  therefore  is 
to  be  educated  not  only  for  the  service  of  others,  but  also 
for  Jiis  own  essential  living.  To  this  end  interests,  tastes 
and  powers  must  be  developed  as  well  as  virtues. 

Virtues,  indeed,  are  not  merely  altruistic.  Steadiness  in 
industry  and  temperance  on  the  part  of  any  single  individual 
are  of  paramount  importance  to  that  individual  himself.  And, 
generally  speaking,  honesty  is  by  far  the  best  policy.  Even 
the  social  spirit  is  more  or  less  beneficial  to  the  individual.  It 
demands  sacrifices,  and  often  they  are  great,  but  on  the  other 
hand,  society  is  gradually  becoming  considerably  apt  at  mak- 
ing life  miserable  for  one  who  does  not  show  the  fruits  of 
that  spirit  in  some  degree,  and  bestowing  its  richest  rewards 
upon  those  who  manifest  that  spirit  in  a  notable  degree.  More- 
over, although  man  can  reconcile  himself  to  a  good  deal  of 
meanness  on  his  own  part  yet  as  long  as  he  retains  his  reason, 
he  is  likely  to  have  at  least  occasional  discontent  if  he  lives 
in  the  spirit  of  a  parasite.  The  blood-sucker  who  lives  upon 
society  without  caring  that  he  fails  to  play  his  part  in  society's 
great  cooperative  task  may  never  know  what  he  misses ;  but 
those  who  plan  the  system  of  education  in  the  interest  of  the 
completest  and  most  satisfying  life,  must  know  that  no  such 
person  ever  knows  the  whole  of  life's  satisfaction.  The  deepest 

1  Compare  Kant :  Metaphysic  of  Ethics.  Watson's  selections, 
page  245  seq. 


C54  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

content  as  well  as  the  noblest  worth  is  revealed  in  the  faces 
of  those  who  along  with  life's  other  satisfactions  have  had 
within  them  the  never-failing  spring  of  an  ennobling  ideal- 
ism which  has  made  them  equal  to  sacrifice.  It  is  true,  how- 
ever, that  the  motive  of  this  virtue  can  never  be  a  calcula- 
tion of  profit.  Only  those  who  lose  their  life  can  find  it. 

This  lesson  is  taught  by  the  autobiography  of  John  Stuart 
Mill  recounting  his  sincere  attempt  to  practice  the  program  of 
utilitarianism.  Goethe's  "Faust"  is  by  general  consent  of  the 
competent  the  greatest  literary  product  of  a  great  century 
of  thought  because  it  is  a  most  masterly  handling  of  this 
greatest  of  all  questions :  What  is  worth  while  ?  Where  shall 
satisfaction  be  found?  Intellectual  pursuits  left  Faust  hungry 
and  ready  for  suicide;  carnal  love,  the  beauties  of  art,  the 
delights  of  wealth,  power  and  glory  all  failed  to  bring  him 
one  hour  of  satisfaction  to  which  he  could  cry  "tarry,  for 
thou  art  fair!"  At  last  he  undertook  to  drain  a  swamp,  and 
foresaw  where  the  land  that  he  reclaimed  would  afford  the 
site  for  homes  of  men.  Then  in  useful  work,  with  himself 
forgotten  and  his  powers  employed  in  the  service  of  a  social 
aim  by  which  his  energies  were  zestfully  enlisted  because 
it  was  worth  while,  he  found  the  answer  to  the  question,  the 
question  of  the  sphinx,  that  must  be  answered  truly  by  all 
who  would  live.  The  same  question  and  the  same  answer, 
at  least  so  far  as  the  negative  part  of  it  is  concerned,  afforded 
the  theme  of  another  poem  that  has  been  a  classic  for  thou- 
sands of  years.  It  is  a  story  of  an  oriental  despot  who  found, 
like  Faust,  that  wisdom,  glory,  power,  and  amorous  indul- 
gences were  "vanity  and  vexation  of  spirit."  There  is  a 
degree  of  insight  and  experience  which  from  the  wisest  man, 
Solomon,  to  the  noblest  man,  Christ,  and  down  to  the  mod- 
ern philosopher  and  seer,  Mill  and  Goethe,  enforces  the 
paradox  that  the  individual  finds  himself  only  when  he  dis- 
covers that  he  has  a  part  in  the  great  team  play,  and  plays 
it.  This  alone  brings  order  out  of  life's  chaos  and  insanity. 
We  are  social  beings,  and  though  we  may  have  many  pleasures, 
we  do  not  discover  and  realize  our  appropriate  satisfaction 
save  as  self-interest  and  devotion  become  reconciled.  The 


EDUCATION  655 

unrelated  individual  is  a  mere  splinter.  Professor  Royce1 
is  right  in  saying  that  man  is  contented  only  in  loyalty  to 
something  bigger  than  himself.  And  what  is  bigger  than 
man?  Men.  There  is  not  a  social  situation  from  a  dinner 
party  to  a  senate  in  which  there  are  not  possibilities  of  good 
waiting  to  be  realized  but  depending  for  their  realization  upon 
the  loyalty  of  each  member  to  social  aims.  The  centaur  or 
the  satyr,  the  being  with  but  half-developed  humanity,  may 
content  himself  without  the  supremacy  of  the  social  spirit — 
but  not  man,  full  grown,  and  it  is  man  full  grown  whose 
needs  and  possibilities  must  be  considered  in  the  formation  of 
a  social  program  of  education.  Man  can  never  grow  to  the 
full  stature  of  humanity,  except  when  life  is  animated  by 
devotion  to  an  aim  that  is  big  enough  to  be  worth  sacrific- 
ing for,  worth  living  and  dying  for.  This  is  the  redeeming 
feature  of  war,  that  men  see  something  at  stake  that  is  worth 
devotion.  But  there  is  always  that  at  stake  which  is  wortlv 
devotion  if  we  were  so  instructed  as  to  see.  War,  especially 
modern  war,  is  mainly  negative  and  men  die  to  save  their 
nation  from  destruction.  Peace  is  positive  and  men  live  to 
bring  their  nation  to  fulfillment.  But  construction  of  good  does 
not  appeal  to  instinct  as  do  destruction  and  defense;  and  so 
constructive  peace  must  depend  for  motive  less  on  instinct,  and 
more  on  reason  and  enlightenment.  By  mere  instinct  men 
will  not  give  themselves  to  produce  gradual  good,  as  they 
will  to  prevent  sudden  destruction,  and  do  not  know  that  the 
word  truly  spoken  at  cost,  often  counts  more  for  the  good 
that  is  worth  dying  for  than  the  bullet  bravely  sped,  and  that 
the  sacrifices  of  a  devoted  ambition  are  more  heroic  than 
sudden  and  bloody  death.  The  cooperative  enterprise  of 
social  life  is  the  great  summons  to  ennobling  devotion.  To 
make  this  plain  to  the  common-sense  of  the  people,  as  the 
summons  of  war  is  plain,  is  the  highest  aim  of  education. 

The  preceding  paragraphs  have  been  devoted  to  the  idea 
that  the  virtues  are  essential  to  the  complete  self-realization 
of  the  individual.  Now  conversely  we  proceed  to  observe  that 
interests,  appreciations,  and  powers,  though  primarily  they 

'Josiah  Royce:   The  Philosophy  of  Loyalty.     Macmillan  Co.,  1908. 


656  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

are  developed  capacities  for  individual  experience,  are  also 
essential  to  society.1  All  education  is  the  eliciting  of  activity. 
Sanctions  suppress  and  mold  from  the-  outside ;  but  educa- 
tion displaces  objectionable  conduct  by  evoking  sentiments  and 
ideas  hostile  to  evil  and  promotive  of  good.  A  bane  and  peril 
of  education  is  that  it  may  insist  that  suggested  ideas  and 
radiated  sentiments  shall  be  given  back  untinged  by  individual 
reaction,  and  that  it  may  produce  a  standardized  output  of 
imperfect  reflections  and  echoes  of  accepted  social  activities, 
instead  of  developing  power  and  individuality.  The  principle 
that  all  education  is  elicitation  of  activity  should  guide  our 
educational  methods.  It  is  obvious  that  developed  powers 
on  the  part  of  individuals  are  essential  to  the  general  welfare 
and  progress  of  society.  Without -them  the  good  intentions 
of  the  social  spirit  would  be  futile.  But  it  is  also  to  be  noted 
that  developed  interests  and  appreciations  though  less  ob- 
viously so,  are  no  less  truly  essential  to  society.  There  is 
no  little  truth  in  the  view  of  Professor  Patten  that  man 
lives  at  first  in  a  pain  economy.  That  is  to  say,  his  activity 
is  called  out  mainly  in  efforts  to  ward  off  hunger,  cold,  mys- 
terious disease,  hostile  beasts,  and  more  hostile  men;  such 
pleasures  as  he  enjoys  are  mainly  those  connected  with  the 
functioning  of  the  instincts  necessary  to  survival.  Later, 
having  subdued  nature  to  his  uses,  he  enters  upon  a  pleasure 
economy,  in  which  the  motive  of  his  activity  is  not  the 
avoidance  of  pains  but  the  securing  of  pleasures.  Various 
peoples  have  entered  upon  a  pleasure  economy,  for  a  brief 
period  of  glory,  only  to  sink  rapidly  into  decay.  The  lasting 
welfare  and  progress  of  a  society  which  has  entered  upon 
a  pleasure  economy  depends  in  part  upon  the  strength  of  its 
virtues,  but  it  depends  also  and  perhaps  still  more  upon 
the  popularization  of  the  innocent  and  ennobling  pleasures. 
Such  pleasures  are  found  especially  in  athletic  sports,  in  so- 
ciety, in  science,  in  the  arts,  and  in  literature.  Why  is  it 
that  on  Monday  morning  so  many  more  men  than  on  other 

1  Spencer :  Principles  of  Ethics.  Appleton  and  Co.,  1901,  Vol.  I, 
chap,  ii,  "Egoism  versus  Altruism";  and  chap,  xii,  "Altruism  versus 
Egoism." 


EDUCATION  657 

days  are  missing  from  their  places  in  shop  and  factory  and 
so  many  more  are  in  jails  and  hospitals?  It  is  because  the 
common  man  has  had  some  leisure  to  do  as  he  pleased,  and 
he  pleased  to  do  what  was  not  good  for  him.  The  pitiful 
thronging  of  men  on  Saturday  nights  from  the  pay-window 
to  the  saloon,  the  brothel,  the  tawdry,  inartistic  show  or  the 
dingy  tobacco-reeking  loafing  place,  the  barrenness,  and  the 
blasting  curse  of  leisure,  the  leisure  that  should  be  a  crown- 
ing blessing,  must  be  combated  by  the  popularization  of  bet- 
ter pleasures.  The  leisure  of  common  men  is  rapidly  increas- 
ing and  the  problem  of  pleasure  is  becoming  fuller  and  fuller 
of  the  possibilities  of  good  and  of  the  possibilities  of  evil.  The 
"higher"  pleasures  are  not  to  be  regarded  merely  as  safe- 
guards, substitutes  for  "lower"  and  more  dangerous  delights. 
They  are  essential  parts  of  life.  Yet  beauty  has  also  a  sur- 
vival value,  else  how  could  the  predisposition  to  enjoy  it  have 
been  evolved?  The  perception  of  beauty  in  nature  is  an 
instance  of  adaptation  to  environment.  A  happy  person,  a 
barefoot  farmer's  lad  whistling  down  the  lane,  usually  does 
not  know  why  he  is  happy.  Beauty  when  felt  creates  an 
atmosphere,  a  psychic  climate,  favorable  to  growth  and  vigor. 
The  sense  of  beauty  is,  like  conscience,  developed  and  di- 
rected by  culture,  but  made  possible  by  a  foundation  in  in- 
stinctive predisposition.  Its  survival  value  is  not  biological 
alone  but  spiritual  also,  as  the  church  has  not  failed  to  per- 
ceive. Goethe  declared  that  art  saved  his  soul.  But  the 
sense  of  beauty  is  not  to  be  valued  merely  as  favorable  to 
health,  survival,  or  even  as  a  means  of  saving  the  soul,  but 
for  its  own  sake.  It  is  one  of  the  ultimate  human  experi- 
ences that  are  good  in  and  of  themselves.  And  so  are  all 
the  pleasures  in  their  due  measure  and  subordination  to  the 
whole  of  life.  But  at  this  point  we  are  interested  by  the 
proposition  that  the  development  of  tastes  is  important  not 
only  to  the  individual,  but  also  to  society,  and  is  an  essential 
factor  in  the  program  of  social  control.  The  fitness  of  men 
to  occupy  a  place  in  society,  as  well  as  the  worth  of  their 
lives  to  themselves,  depends  in  no  small  degree  on  what  they 
have  learned  to  like.-  Ruskin  was  not  far  wrong  in  declar- 


658  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

ing  that  education  consists  in  causing  people  to  like  what 
they  ought  to  like. 

The  foregoing  statements  concerning  tastes  require  to  be 
especially  applied  to  the  development  of  intellectual  interests. 
Pleasure  is  not  a  thing  apart  from  activity  or  functioning; 
it  is  to  be  found  in  the  satisfaction  of  every  predisposition. 
The  last  of  the  "general"  predispositions,  namely,  the  pre- 
disposition to  curiosity  and  mental  activity  (in  the  narrow 
sense  of  the  word  "mental")  has  its  pleasures  as  well  as  any 
of  the  others. 

The  hungry  mind  will  occupy  itself  with  something,  even 
if  it  be  nothing  better  than  puzzles  in  the  back  of  the  weekly 
paper,  or  trivial  gossip.  And  so  long  as  we  are  interested 
we  have  pleasure.  Two  old  men  gossiping  may  be  poor, 
rheumatic,  without  honors  or  high  hopes,  but  they  are  not 
without  pleasure  so  long  as  they  are  interested.  The  mind's 
appetite  is  greatest  for  knowledge  about  our  own  kind,  and 
what  an  infinite  supply  for  this  hunger  is  available:  in  the 
newspaper,  biography,  published  correspondence,  anecdotes 
and  reminiscences,  descriptive  travels,  folklore,  and  history 
of  the  people  of  more  than  a  score  of  centuries,  descriptions 
of  the  teeming  summoning  present  of  which  we  are  a  part, 
with  all  its  suffering  and  hopes  and  possibilities,  and  to  sup- 
plement all,  the  winsomely  recorded  lives  of  the  characters  of 
fiction  who  have  such  absorbingly  interesting  traits  and  ex- 
periences. But  we  are  interested  also  in  the  world  of  material 
realities,  in  the  ancient  records  of  the  rocks,  in  the  seas  and 
harbors,  rivers  and  mountains,  in  the  beasts  and  birds  and 
fishes  and  the  trees  and  flowers.  Even  one  of  their  count- 
less subdivisions  like  the  bees,  as  Maeterlinck  found,  affords 
unfailing  interest  for  much  of  the  pleasure  time  of  a  whole 
life.  The  mysteries  of  nature  as  they  are  half  unraveled  in  the 
laws  of  the  fundamental  physical  sciences  find  innumerable 
illustrations.  Then  there  are  the  material  works  of  man, 
a  world  of  fascinating  wonders.  And  above  and  beneath 
and  through  it  all  run  the  deep  questions  of  philosophy. 

There  is  no  necessity  that  the  life  of  any  normal  human 
being  should  revolve  in  a  petty  orbit,  from  the  work-bench  to 


EDUCATION  659 

the  dinner-table,  to  the  barber-shop,  to  bed  and  back  to  the 
work-bench.  One  need  not  have  developed  all  the  interests, 
but  he  is  impoverished  indeed  if  he  have  no  interest  to  which 
he  turns  with  zest  when  leisure  comes.  Developed  interests, 
like  other  developed  tastes,  are  not  only  an  antidote  to  degrad- 
ing and  destructive  allurements,  they  are  a  positive  addition 
to  life's  pleasure  and  worth.  They  enable  man  to  live  in  a 
big  world  and  an  ennobling  world,  instead  of  a  petty  and 
degrading  one. 

Moreover,  they  enlarge  man's  powers.  His  powers  are 
like  sleeping  giants  until  interest  arouses  them  and  calls  them 
forth.  We  hear  a  great  deal  about  interest  as  an  aid  to  the 
learning  process,  as  if  learning  were  the  end  and  interest 
only  a  means.  It  would  be  at  least  as  near  the  truth  to  regard 
knowledge  as  a  means  to  developing  and  satisfying  interests, 
and  developed  interests  as  the  end.  If  not  the  aim,  at  least 
one  chief  aim  of  education  is  to  enable  men  to  live  interested 
lives,  for  it  is  interested  lives  that  have  both  power  and 
worth. 

Power,  in  so  far  as  power  can  be  acquired  by  formal 
education,  is  mainly  encouragement  to  confident  self-expres- 
sion, balanced  but  not  overbalanced  by  socially  acceptable 
standards  of  self-criticism  plus  stimulating  interests  plus  use- 
ful habits  of  thought  and  action  plus  knowledge.  An  educated 
man  is  first  a  man  who  has  the  four  virtues  not  only  as  clear 
judgments  but  also  as  established  enthusiasms  and  detesta- 
tions ;  second,  he  is  one  who  is  enriched  with  developed  tastes 
and  interests;  third,  his  virtues  and  his  tastes  and  interests 
must  have  been  exercised  into  a  framework  of  orderly  and 
practical  habits ;  fourth,  in  acquiring  the  first  three,  especially 
in  acquiring  tastes  and  interests  he  will'  have  gathered  con- 
siderable knowledge,  and  he  ought  also  to  have  special  knowl- 
edge of  how  to  do  some  useful  work.  If  he  has  all  four 
of  these  he  has  powers  and  his  life  will  have  worth  both  to 
himself  and  to  society. 

The  Variability  of  Individuals  and  of  Society. — By  finding 
out  all  we  can  about  the  causation  that  molds  life,  sociology 
makes  it  plain  that  the  factors  in  that  causation  are  numerous. 


66o  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

The  influential  and  well-to-do  classes  that  mold  popular 
opinion  are  prompted  by  pride  to  assume  and  teach  that  they 
are  what  they  are  because  of  inborn  excellence.  Indeed,  what 
man  is  so  poor  as  not  to  be  proud  and  to  set  up  for  himself 
a  similar  claim?  Self-consciousness  is  partisan  and  we  have 
strong  individual  pride,  a  considerable  family  pride,  more  or 
less  national  pride,  and  a  weak  pride  in  our  whole  culture- 
group.  Partisan  pride  is  strongest  when  we  can  shut  out 
others  with  the  clearest  boundary.  Sociology  makes  it  clear 
that  the  tendency  for  us  as  individuals  to  shut  out  others  in 
explaining  to  ourselves  whatever  excellences  we  claim,  has 
gone  vastly  too  far.  It  is  also  possible  to  go  too  far  in  the 
opposite  direction  and  so  to  undervalue  the  importance  of 
inborn  traits  as  virtually  to  attribute  everything  to  environ- 
ment. That  is  not  the  attitude  of  sociology  which  gives  as 
full  weight  to  the  hereditary  psychophysical  causes  as  it  does 
to  all  the  others.  The  familiar  question,  which  makes  the 
man,  heredity  or  environment,  is  as  unreasonable  as  it  would 
be  to  ask  which  makes  the  steam,  water  or  fire,  or  to  ask 
which  makes  the  farmer's  crop,  the  soil  and  climate  which 
nature  furnishes  or  the  planting  and  cultivation  of  the  hus- 
bandman. Neither  alone  could  accomplish  the  result. 

The  art  of  education  like  the  art  of  agriculture  deals  with 
growing  things.  Though  agriculture  has  been  practiced  and 
discussed  for  so  many  ages,  and  enlists  the  imperious  bread- 
and-butter  interests,  yet  it  is  only  now  becoming  scientific. 
We  have  already  observed  that  in  the  opinion  of  the  agrono- 
mists the  yield  of  American  corn  lands  could  be  doubled  by  the 
application  of  the  lessons  of  science,  and  that  it  is  equally 
within  the  truth  to  say  that  the  harvest  of  life  for  the  people 
of  America  could  be  doubled  if  the  possibilities  with  which 
they  are  endowed  by  nature  were  brought  to  approximate 
realization.  For  this  it  is  not  enough  to  make  the  benefits 
of  present  methods  in  education  more  nearly  universal,  as 
Ward  so  impressively  advocated,  important  as  that  is.  It  is 
essential  to  introduce  into  our  education  guiding  principles 
which  have  been  only  dimly  apprehended  and  applied.  Hered- 
ity sets  the  limits  within  which  individual  development  can 


EDUCATION  *  661 

vary.  By  all  means  let  us  do  what  we  can  by  the  program 
of  eugenics,  by  selective  regulation  of  immigration,  and  by 
promotion  of  public  health,  to  improve  the  biological  quality 
of  population.  But  after  all  is  done  we  shall  have  the  prob- 
lem of  making  the  most  of  the  latent  possibility  of  each  rising 
generation  just  as  the  farmer  has  the  problem  of  securing  the 
largest  yield  and  highest  conservation  of  his  land.  And  as 
the  same  land  may  yield  little  or  much  and  that  which  it  yields 
may  be  corn,  alfalfa,  or  weeds,  so  the  same  population  may 
yield  Periclean  achievement  and  levels  of  character  which 
we  know  only  by  rare  but  blessed  instances,  or  futility  and 
deviltry. 

Within  the  limits  set  by  birth,  individuality  is  a  social 
product.  Without  education  by  social  contacts  there  would 
be  no  such  thing  as  individuality  as  we  understand  that  term. 
Social  contacts  begin  to  be  educative  among  the  higher  animals. 
Social  relations  not  only  determine  that  there  shall  be  self- 
consciousness,  but  even  more  certainly  they  determine  what 
the  nature  of  the  self-thought  shall  be.  We  inherit  contrast- 
ing instincts,  instincts  of  competition  and  of  cooperation,  of 
self-assertion  and  of  loyal  self-subordination.  Social  contacts 
have  power  to  determine  whether  the  self-thought,  to  which 
both  spontaneously  and  voluntarily  a  man's  acts  conform,  shall 
be  one  of  swaggering  self-assertion,  of  more  refined  self- 
aggrandizement,  or  predominantly  one  of  service.  The  self- 
thought  is  complex;  social  contacts  determine  the  nature  of 
the  elements  which  it  contains.  And  the  further  develop- 
ment of  personality  is  largely  a  reaction  between  the  self- 
thought  already  established  and  the  subsequent  stream  of 
social  suggestion. 

Without  social  contacts  we  should  have  no  language  and 
no  need  of  any,  for  we  should  be  about  equally  destitute  of 
thoughts  requiring  the  medium  of  words  and  of  the  words 
in  which  to  formulate  thoughts.  We  should  be  dumb  brutes. 
We  should  be  more  heathen  than  any  heathen.  Each  hour 
of  civilized  life  is  a  social  heritage.  Any  one  of  us  would 
find  it  hard  to  name  one  definite  thought,  desire,  or  any  ele- 
ment of  conscious  life  aside  from  sense  perception  and  the 


662  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

functioning  of  his  animal  organism  of  which  he  can  say: 
"this  is  mine  by  virtue  of  my  inborn  gifts  alone;  I  owe  it  to 
no  associate." 

However  highly  the  biological  mechanism  of  life  may  be 
developed,  that  alone  cannot  make  men  and  women.  Men 
and  women  are  social  products. 

By  social  evolution  there  have  been  developed  languages, 
religions,  moral  conceptions  and  conscience  codes,  sciences, 
mechanic  arts,  methods  of  political  and  judicial  organization, 
and  all  customs  and  institutions.  Social  evolution  still  goes 
on  and  shows  no  signs  of  abatement.  Instead,  social  progress 
makes  further  progress  possible.  The  work  of  thousands 
of  investigators  of  electricity  from  Thales  down  culminates 
in  the  discovery  of  Hertzian  waves ;  this  discovery  becomes 
the  property  of  the  world,  and  hundreds  of  laboratories  there- 
upon become  tense  with  the  possibility  of  wireless  telegraphy. 
Each  social  mutation  that  takes  place  in  the  mind  of  a  Mar- 
coni is  the  culmination  of  a  process  of  social  evolution,  and 
when  added  to  the  common  stock  becomes  a  starting-point 
for  new  advance.  The  elements  of  previous  progress  enter 
into  fertile  combination  and  give  birth  to  new  progeny  of 
ideas  or  sentiments. 

Education  has  for  its  business  to  make  each  individual 
born  into  the  world  an  heir  of  all  the  ages.  Each  is  born 
naked  of  soul  as  of  body;  rich,  if  rich  at  all,  only  in  possi- 
bilities. Each  begins  at  the  very  commencement  of  social 
progress.  Some  advance  only  a  little  way  in  their  three-score 
years  and  ten.  Many  are  molded  in  youth  by  contact  with 
those  who  are  not  bearers  of  the  ripened  culture  of  the  ages. 
The  character  of  society  to-day  and  its  possibilities  of  prog- 
ress depend  upon  the  degree  to  which  the  social  store  becomes 
the  possession  not  of  a  few  fortunates,  but  of  all. 

With  all  regard  for  material  causes  of  social  effects  and 
for  all  due  qualifications,  there  remains  great  truth  in  the 
saying  of  Comte  that  "ideas  rule  the  world  or  throw  it  into 
chaos."  The  most  needed  reform  in  the  world  of  education 
is  a  more  adequate  idea  of  the  variability  of  individuality,  of 
the  fact  that  the  harvests  a  life  may  yield  are  as  various  as 


EDUCATION  663 

the  crops  that  an  acre  may  bear.  A  boy  born  in  the  corn  belt 
and  inheriting  one  hundred'  and  sixty  acres  of  its  black  soil 
is  likely  to  become  a  farmer;  if  born  with  identical  endow- 
ments on  an  island  off  the  coast  of  Maine  there  is  likelihood 
that  he  would  become  a  fisherman  or  a  sailor;  if  born  with 
those  same  endowments  in  Turkey  and  seeing  only  Turks  he 
would  have  been  a  Turk,  have  spoken  the  Turkish  language 
and  believed  in  Mohammedanism  and  polygamy.  Jerry  Ma- 
caulay  during  half  his  life  was  a  king  of  toughs  and  terror  of 
the  police;  during  the  latter  part  of  his  life  he  was  a  saint 
and  a  savior  to  his  kind.  Both  men  were  in  Jerry  Macaulay 
all  the  time;  one  was  evoked  by  his  early  contacts,  later  an- 
other influence  called  out  the  other  man.  The  often  quoted 
statement  of  Goethe  that  he  never  heard  of  a  crime  that  he 
himself  might  not  have  committed,  did  not  mean,  I  think, 
merely  that  he  felt  such  evil  instincts  within  him,  but  that 
he  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  great  truth  that  with  other  social 
contacts  he  would  have  been  another  man.  As  the  insight  of 
his  genius  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  fact  of  biological  evolution 
before  the  scientists  had  demonstrated  it,  so  also  he  glimpsed 
this  great  conclusion  before  the  facts  of  comparative  sociology 
had  made  it  stand  forth  in  its  momentous  dimensions.  Of 
the  traits  that  make  Christ  the  Savior  one  of  the  chief  was 
his  power  to  discover  the  unrealized  possibilities  in  man.  In 
the  publican  he  saw  the  apostle,  and  in  the  Magdalen  he  saw 
the  saint  It  is  only  as  education  is  guided  by  similar  vision 
that  it  can  accomplish  its  saving  mission  and  fulfill  the  larger 
destiny  to  which  it  is  called. 

Sociology  reveals  the  variability  of  human  life,  not  only, 
as  just  indicated,  by  pointing  out  the  numerous  and  variable 
causes  by  which  it  is  molded,  but  also  by  comparing  the 
heterogeneous  effects  that  actually  issue.  Comparative  sociol- 
ogy breaks  up  "the  illusion  of  the  near."  Men  who  had  grown 
up  in  the  vast  steppes  and  had  no  conception  of  mountains  or 
forests  or  sea:  would  have  a  clear  and  definite  conception  of 
nature.  And  if  told  of  vegetation  towering  a  hundred  feet 
into  the  sky  they  would  either  regard  it  as  magical  or  treat 
with  laughter  or  indignation  such  an  insult  to  their  knowl- 


664  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

edge  concerning  the  limits  to  variation  set  by  nature.  Simi- 
larly it  is  necessary  for  us  to  learn  that  "human  nature"  de- 
termines only  within  wide  limits  what  men  shall  regard  as 
beautiful,  what  things  they  shall  desire,  what  ambitions  they 
shall  pursue,  or  what  they  shall  regard  as  right  or  wrong. 
That  is  to  say,  it  leaves  undetermined,  save  by  wide  limits, 
what  their  character  and  content  of  life  and  personality  shall 
be.  We  have  seen  that  human  nature  does  not  prevent  men 
from  seeing  beauty  in  yellow  cheeks  and  eyes  aslant  and  black- 
ened teeth  and  feet  deformed  to  lumps  and  beards  dyed  in 
bright  colors,  or  from  regarding  the  eating  of  a  dead  parent's 
body  as  a  seemly  mark  of  respect;  that  social  influence  does 
more  than  human  nature  to  determine  musical  preference  for 
a  bedlam  of  squawks,  squeals,  clangs,  and  bangs,  or  for  simple 
melodies,  or  for  the  intricate  harmonies  and  subharmonies  of 
Wagner;  that  birth  from  a  rake  who  is  called  a  duke,  or 
ability  to  pound  an  opponent's  face,  may  at  one  time  and  place 
set  a  man  higher  in  social  regard  than  virtue  coupled  with 
ordinary  or  even  extraordinary  usefulness,  and  at  other  times 
and  places  have  no  such  power ;  that  social  molding  can  build 
consciences  that  approve  not  only  of  slavery,  as  did  many 
of  the  most  Christian  and  most  charming  people  in  America 
till  recently,  and  polygamy,  as  Abraham  and  a  majority  of  the 
wise  and  good  men  of  the  past  have  done,  but  also  infanticide, 
human  sacrifice,  killing  the  aged,  and  wife-lending,  as  a  duty 
of  hospitality;  "that  the  mores  can  make  anything  seem 
right." 

The  degree  of  achievement  is  more  dependent  upon  hered- 
ity than  the  directions  of  effort,  of  interest,  of  enthusiasm, 
and  of  character.1  Birth  largely  determines  which  individuals 
shall  go  further  than  others  in  achievement,  and  whether  any 
in  a  given  group  shall  attain  the  highest  ranges  of  accom- 
plishment, but  society  has  more  to  do  with  deciding  whether 
its  members  go  as  far  and  as  high  as  their  nature  allows,  and 

1  "The  important  moral  traits  seem  to  be  matters  of  the  direction 
of  capacities  and  the  creation  of  desires  and  aversions  by  environment 
to  a  much  greater  extent  than  the  important  qualities  of  intellect  and 
efficiency,"  Thorndike :  Educational  Psychology,  p.  45. 


EDUCATION  665 

above  all,  society  has  more  to  do  in  deciding  the  direction  in 
which  its  activities  flow. 

Education  the  Chief  Agency  of  Social  Control. — The  direc- 
tion of  ambition  is  socially  determined.  We  want  to  be  win* 
ners  at  the  game  that  is  being  played.  The  small  boy's  spring- 
time obsession  for  marbles  is  gone  long  before  fall,  because 
"the  boys  aren't  playing  marbles  any  more."  The  Indian  who 
dreamed  and  longed  and  risked  his  life  to  hang  scalps  at  his 
belt,  or  the  Filipino  who  measures  his  success  by  the  number 
of  skulls  over  his  door,  or  the  Kafir  or  Thibetan  whose  stand- 
ard of  greatness  and  mainspring  of  endeavor  is  the  size  of  his 
herd,  or  the  American  toiling  to  make  a  high  score  at  the 
dollar-piling  game  and  to  support  his  wife  in  competitive  osten- 
tation, have  not  selected  these  goals  as  an  expression  of  their 
own  independent  individuality.  The  operation  of  the  same 
principle  of  the  molding  of  personal  ambition  by  social  radia- 
tion caused  the  Spartans  to  despise  money.  The  swift  ad- 
vance of  Germany  from  the  foot  to  the  head  of  great  Euro- 
pean powers  has  been  due  largely  to  the  fact  that  achievement 
in  science  has  been  a  goal  of  ambition  of  her  most  gifted  sons, 
so  that  by  her  application  of  science  to  industry  and  govern- 
ment she  has  been  able  to  redemonstrate  the  truth  that  knowl- 
edge is  power.  A  traveler  in  Florence  asked  one  of  the 
curly-headed,  great-eyed  urchins  of  its  streets  what  he  would 
like  to  be  when  he  grew  up,  and  the  boy  replied,  "A  sculptor." 
Now,  Florence  has  sculptors,  though  not  all  of  her  sculptors 
are  great.  A  street  boy  in  an  American  city  would  not  have 
answered  so;  he  might  have  said  that  he  wanted  to  become 
pitcher  for  the  White  Sox,  or  boss  of  the  ward.  Jane  Addams 
says  that  in  a  ward  chiefly  inhabited  by  workingmen  there 
was  difficulty  in  replacing  a  corrupt  boss  by  an  honest  work- 
ingman  as  its  aldermanic  representative,  because  the  people 
wanted  to  vote  for  a  man  who. was  a  success.  Where  the 
soubrette,  the  boss,  the  money-maker,  represent  success,  sou- 
brettes,  bosses,  and  money-makers  will  be  produced.  Why 
did  the  Spartan  boy  let  the  fox  gnaw  his  vitals  without  giving 
a  sign,  and  why  did  Spartan  soldiers  commit  suicide  because 
they  had  not  perished  with  their  comrades  on  the  battlefield  ? 


666  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

What  was  it  that  made  Spartans  out  of  Greeks  whose  name 
elsewhere  became  a  synonym  for  self-indulgence?  Grit  was 
the  social  ideal  in  Sparta.  Whatever  society  adequately  appre- 
ciates, society  will  get,  up  to  the  very  limits  of  human  possi- 
bility, whether  it^  be  prizefighters,  money-kings,  scientists,  or 
constructive  statesmen.  No  other  reform  is  so  fundamental 
as  a  shifting  of  emphasis  in  social  valuations.  Ambition  in  a 
given  population  or  in  a  given  individual  may  be  drawn  out 
in  any  one  of  various  directions.  Its  direction  and  its  power 
are  not  fixed  by  "human  nature,"  but  are  matters  of  education. 

Society  must  impart  to  its  members  tastes,  interests, 
ambitions,  and  a  set  of  moral  detestations  and  moral  enthusi- 
asms strong  enough  to  inhibit  instincts  and  to  elicit  zeals — 
detestations  and  enthusiasms  that  are  not  inborn  and  that 
embody  the  lessons  of  race  experience  respecting  the  conduct 
of  life.  Nature  does  not  give  us  a  conscience  any  more  than 
it  gives  us  a  language,  but  only  the  capacity  to  acquire  one; 
social  evolution  and  education  must  do  the  rest.  The  task  of 
order  and  progress  is  not  only  to  erect  the  towering  structure 
of  social  organization  out  of  individual  units,  but  also  to  make 
the  bricks  of  which  alone  such  a  structure  can  be  built. 

Education  and  Progress. — The  principle  of  the  wide  vari- 
ability of  each  individual  within  the  limits  set  by  nature — the 
fact  that  there  is  in  each  normal  child  a  generous  assortment 
of  unrealized  possibilities  inviting  any  one  of  the  numerous 
careers,  including  material  for  devil  and  saint,  savage  or 
social  flower,  the  truth  that  interests,  tastes,  ambitions  and 
conscience  vary  in  response  to  social  conditions  as  really  as 
language  and  as  widely  as  the  contrast  between  the  Chinese  or 
Algonquin  language  and  our  own — this  momentous  principle 
is  one  of  the  words  which  sociology  has  for  the  guidance  of 
education,  as  important  as  its  teachings  concerning  the  method 
by  which  personality  is  socially  formed  and  elicited.  It  is  a 
principle  of  which  common-sense  perceives  only  a  dim  frag- 
ment and  the  proportions  of  which  are  disclosed  by  com- 
parative and  genetic  sociology.  As  common-sense  sees  only 
a  flat  and  stationary  earth  till  science  makes  its  disclosures, 
so  common-sense  sees  a  too  fixed  and  too  limiting  "human 


EDUCATION  667 

nature."  We  know  what  we  are  but  none  of  us  knows  whaC: 
we  might  have  been  and  none  dares  set  limits  to  that  which 
society  may  become.  Only  for  a  moment  or  two  on  the  dial 
of  time  has  man  been  able  to  leave  written  records.  Just  now 
electricity  was  known  only  as  a  destructive  power,  or  a  tiny 
curiosity  that  would  move  pith  balls.  Science  has  begun  to 
make  discoveries  in  the  realm  of  the  racial  life  itself.  We 
have  learned  that  "one  man  is  no  man"  that  "the  individual  is 
an  abstraction,"  a  thing  that  can  be  thought  of  apart  from 
others,  but  that  cannot  so  exist ;  that  individuals  are  social  prod- 
ucts, and  that  the  business  of  education  is  not  merely  to  impart 
a  little  knowledge  or  teach  a  trade,  but  also  and  chiefly  to 
build  personalities.  Human  life  is  the  most  variable  of  all 
natural  phenomena.  * 

To  accept  the  present  condition  of  society  as  final  would 
be  to  surrender  to  pessimism.  Complacency  that  believes  only 
what  it  likes  to  believe  may  protest  against  such  fearful  esti- 
mates of  the  progress  thus  far  attained  by  humanity  as  have 
been  recorded  by  Huxley  and  Wallace ;  but  no  one  who  knows 
our  world  as  it  is  can  willingly  accept  the  present  stage  of 
social  evolution  as  a  stopping-place.  And  none  who  survey 
the  past  and  the  hole  of  the  pit  from  whence  we  were  digged 
need  fear  to  hope.  After  a  study  of  comparative  sociology 
and  the  method  of  social  causation  we  shall  be  slow  to  say 
that  anything  is  forbidden  by  the  limits  of  human  nature. 
The  psychophysical  nature  of  mankind  does  set  limits,  but 
they  are  very  wide  apart.  The  unformed  infants  that  intrust 
themselves  to  society  are  such  material  that  if  a  single  gen- 
eration could  be  raised  ideally  the  world  would  lurch  forward 
further  than  it  will  climb  in  centuries.  The  trouble  is  that 
each  generation  has  to  be  reared  by  the  society  into  which  it 
is  born.  Their  rearing  is  society's  supreme  responsibility. 
This  responsibility  must  be  comprehended.  It  must  enlist  the 
energies  of  society's  best  and  wisest  to  the  end  that  every  mem- 
ber of  the  new  generation  shall  share  as  fully  as  may  be  the 
fruits  of  all  the  progress  that  divides  us  from  our  naked, 
groping,  savage  ancestors,  and  that  prepares  for  the  still  better 
day  that  is  to  be,  Not  only  is  it  as  well  within  the  bounds 


668  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

of  scientific  practicability  to  double  the  average  worth  of  hu- 
man lives  as  to  double  the  harvest  of  our  cornfields,  but  with 
that  done  we  shall  have  created  new  collective  possibilities 
and  rendered  practicable  programs  of  organization  and  prog- 
ress that  are  beyond  the  range  of  human  second  nature  as  it  is 
molded  by  the  society  of  the  present. 


CHAPTER   XXXVI 
EDUCATIONAL   AGENCIES   OUTSIDE   THE   SCHOOL 

The  Family. — Among  educational  agencies  the  family 
stands  first.  When  at  its  best,  the  power  of  the  family  to  give 
to  personality  its  character  and  content  is  comparable  rather 
with  all  other  agencies  combined  than  with  any  other  single 
agency.  But  it  is  often  far  from  its  best.  Social  workers 
often  find  the  delinquent  and  imperiled  child  in  a  home  that 
seems  to  be  the  child's  most  dangerous  enemy.  And  the  asser- 
tion of  parental  claims  upon  the  child  may  be  the  stubbornest 
obstacle  to  its  welfare.  At  such  a  time  the  school,  the  super- 
vised playground,  the  social  settlement,  and  the  juvenile  court 
appear  as  the  true  friends  of  the  child  and  the  reliable  educa- 
tional agencies.  But  it  would  be  absurd  to  judge  the  family 
by  the  instances  in  which  it  fails  to  discharge  its  function.  The 
fact  that  abnormality  of  the  family  is  so  often  the  cause  of 
juvenile  misconduct  emphasizes  the  importance  of  that 
function. 

The  power  of  the  family  rests  partly  upon  sanctions,  re- 
wards, and  punishments,  but  far  more  upon  social  suggestion, 
sympathetic  radiation,  and  imitation.  The  greatness  of  this 
power  is  due  to  three  well-known  principles  of  social  psychol- 
ogy: first,  the  naivete  and  suggestibility  of  the  child.  The 
empty  mind  of  the  child  has  at  first  nothing  to  oppose  to 
whatever  ideas  are  presented,  and  it  has  no  prejudice  against 
whatever  sentiments  are  radiated  by  its  associates.  Second, 
the  principle  of  repetition.  Even  the  well-fortified  mind, 
stored  with  accepted  tastes,  approvals,  and  beliefs,  is  so  sus- 
ceptible to  the  effects  of  repetition  as  to  give  rise  to  the  popular 
remark  that  it  is  only  necessary  to  say  a  thing  often  enough 
in  order  to  have  it  believed.  The  child  in  the  home  is  sub- 
jected for  years  to  a  repetition  of  the  same  impressions. 

669 


670  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

Third,  the  principle  of  prestige.  Elders  have  tremendous  nat- 
ural prestige  with  the  young.  This  prestige  may  be  lost,  but 
it  is  easily  retained,  and  in  the  self-respecting  family  it  is  ree'n- 
forced  'by  group  pride  and  partisanship  and  by  affection. 

From  all  this  it  follows  that  in  a  normal  household  the 
mind  of  the  child,  its  second  nature,  is  born  of  its  parents  as 
truly  as  its  body.  Very  early  and  perhaps  even  before  he 
enters  the  schoolroom  at  six,  the  influence  of  the  family  has 
determined  for  the  child  and  in  the  majority  of  cases  for  life 
whether  he  is  to  be  Catholic  or  Protestant,  Methodist  or  Pres- 
byterian, standpatter  or  progressive,  whether  he  is  to  use 
refined  or  degraded  speech,  be  truthful  or  deceiving,  a  self- 
seeker  or  animated  by  the  social  spirit. 

Save  in  a  very  subordinate  degree  it  is  not  by  precept  that 
parents  and  other  elder  members  of  the  family  mold  the  chil- 
dren in  the  home.  It  is  by  daily  speech  and  conduct;  it  is  by 
the  comparison  between  promise  and  performance,  between 
words  spoken  before  the  face  of  a  neighbor  and  behind  his 
back,  by  self-control  or  lack  of  it  in  a  thousand  little  emer- 
gencies, by  the  unstudied  table  talk,  by  the  pleasures  sought 
and  enjoyed,  by  the  trend  of  ambition. 

The  family  in  the  discharge  of  this  function  must  take 
account  of  the  other  agencies  of  education  and  cooperate  with 
the  school,  the  play  of  the  children,  and  the  church.  The 
juvenile  literature  provided  by  the  home  is  one  of  the  chief 
agencies  of  education  and  may  go  far  toward  developing 
tastes,  interests,  sentiments,  and  a  habit  of  intellectual  life 
that  will  enrich  all  the  after  years. 

The  mother  who  reads  to  her  children  at  bedtime  in  that 
half-hypnotic  hour  may  build  into  their  personality  the  best 
she  knows  or  is  or  can  find  in  the  world's  life.  The  death 
rates  in  scientifically  managed  foundling  asylums  furnish  an 
amazing  demonstration  of  the  inadequacy  of  any  substitute 
for  the  watchful  individual  care  of  a  mother  for  her  baby's 
physical  life.  Babies  do  not  come  in  litters  because  one  is 
enough  to  exhaust  the  care  of  a  mother.  And  only  the  solici- 
tude of  individual  love  suffices.  Even  if  science  should  suc- 
ceed in  providing  successfully  for  the  physical  care  of  babies 


EDUCATIONAL  AGENCIES  OUTSIDE  SCHOOL     671 

in  batches,  there  would  remain  the  more  exacting  task  of 
motherhood  in  the  development  of  individuality.  It  is  a  task 
in  which  many  mothers  fail,  but  one  in  which  no  other  agency 
can  succeed  as  mothers  can.  No  advantages  of  the  so-called 
emancipation  of  woman  can  compensate  society  for  diminished 
efficiency  in  mother-work,  which  is  more  important  than  any 
other  special  calling  or  profession. 

There  are  a  few  things  that  have  been  settled,  not  by 
discussion  and  theory,  but  by  the  experience  of  peoples,  not 
once  for  all  but  thousands  of  times  for  all,  and  one  of  these 
is  the  high  social  expediency  of  maintaining  inviolate  the 
monogamous  family.  But  if  any  persist  in  discussing  this 
as  though  it  were  still  open  to  question  they  must  not  discuss 
it  from  the  point  of  the  two  contracting  parties  alone,  still  less 
as  if  these  two  were  merely  cheerful  animals,  ignorant  of 
life's  higher  values  and  of  life's  weighty  responsibilities.  They 
must  discuss  it  with  reference  to  four  sets  of  interests  :  ( i ) 
the  interests  of  the  two  contracting  parties,  man  and  woman 
being  equally  regarded.  (2)  Next  to  be  considered  are  the 
interests  of  the  children  for  whose  bodies  and  souls  the  mar- 
ried pair  assume  responsibility.  The  family  does  not  exist 
merely  for  purposes  of  selfish  indulgence,  either  on  the  carnal 
or  the  esthetic  and  intellectual  level;  it  unites  ditty  and  sac- 
rifice with  the  most  priceless  joys,  and  there  is  no  relation  in 
life  where  the  shirking  of  obligation  is  more  to  be  condemned 
and  despised.  To  estimate  a  plan  of  domestic  organization 
by  anything  else  more  than  by  its  effect  upon  offspring  is  to 
prostitute  the  institution  of  the  family  from  its  natural  pur- 
pose. It  was  the  interest  of  parents  in  their  offspring  more 
than  the  interest  of  men  and  women  in  each  other  that  orig- 
inally gave  to  the  family  its  permanence  and  solidarity.  It  is 
founded  upon  race-preserving  instinct  as  well  as  upon  indi- 
vidualistic instinct,  and  if  now  its  basis  is  to  become  rational 
instead  of  instinctive,  reason  must  regard  both  these  aims.  (3) 
Other  interests  to  be  considered  are  those  of  the  declining  gen- 
eration, which  is  always  present  in  society  and  to  which  the 
marrying  pair  will  sometime  belong.  The  question  what  to  do 
with  the  aged  is  a  more  or  less  puzzling  one.  The  peaceful 


672  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

nook  in  the  chimney  corner  in  an  atmosphere  created  by 
the  grateful  love  of  well-nurtured  children  is  the  best  solu- 
tion thus  far  devised.  But  while  the  duty  of  parents  to  chil- 
dren is  primary  and  voluntarily  assumed  by  all  who  bring 
children  into  the  world,  the  duty  of  children  to  parents  is 
secondary,  and  only  those  parents  who  have  done  their  duty 
by  their  children  can  claim  as  a  right,  duti fulness  from  their 
children.  Thus  far  the  only  way  to  make  old  age  a  period 
of  ripe  content  and  not  of  wretchedness  for  mankind  in  gen- 
eral is  to  establish  the  family  in  such  solidarity  that  it  will 
bear  the  strain  of  demands  upon  filial  devotion.  (4)  The 
interests  of  society  are  to  be  considered.  Society  as  a  whole 
has  a  colossal  stake  in  its  domestic  institutions.  Society  must 
insist  that  the  family  shall  be  of  a  type  which  affords  great 
motives  to  every  kind  of  productive  endeavor  which  develops 
reliability  of  personal  character  and  habits  in  men  and  women, 
which  tends  to  secure  stability  in  these  domestic  functional 
groups  and  above  all  one  calculated  to  rear  for  society  suc- 
cessive generations  of  citizens  of  the  highest  individual  devel- 
opment. 

Marriage  is  a  product  of  both  biologic  and  social  evolu- 
tion, the  expression  both  of  instinct  and  also  of  reason  and 
sentiment.  The  awakening  of  the  instinct  requires  only  the 
presence  of  a  normal  member  of  the  opposite  sex  of  suitable 
age  in  the  absence  of  any  inhibiting  cause.  Therefore  strange 
and  undesirable  matches  occur  because  it  is  accidental  propin- 
quity that  has  made  the  selections.  Before  the  mind  adds  its 
consent  to  instinct  and  the  whole  nature  consents  to  love,  two 
sets  of  considerations  should  be  regarded :  first :  health, 
and  inborn  gifts  of  head  and  heart ;  second,  congenial  so- 
cial development  which  shapes  the  habits,  tastes,  interests, 
ambitions,  and  ideals.  Money  and  other  things,  however  de- 
sirable, are  vastly  secondary  to  these  personal  considerations. 
Marriage  should  be  based  upon  a  love  strong  enough  to  make 
service  a  joy  and  to  elicit  upon  occasion  willing  and  silent 
sacrifice  for  the  beloved.  Ideals  do  not  come  true  of  them- 
selves, but  two  who  thus  love,  who  each  steadily  deserve  the 
absolute  trust  of  the  other,  and  who  sincerely  and  persistently 


EDUCATIONAL  AGENCIES  OUTSIDE  SCHOOL     673 

aim  to  make  the  best  come  true  in  marriage,  may  safely 
reckon  upon  deep  and  lasting  joys. 

Divorce,1 — The  foregoing  discussion  of  the  function  of  the 
family,  together  with  the  .facts  previously  stated  concerning 
the  relation  between  family  disruption  and  crime,  emphasize 
the  importance  of  the  subject  of  divorce. 

In  the  United  States  about  one  in  every  twelve  marriages 
ends  in  divorce,  and  the  ratio  is  much  higher  in  some  states. 
This  condition  of  things  has  come  into  existence  within  the  last 
generation  and  a  half.  In  Switzerland,  the  European  country 
that  most  nearly  approaches  us  in  this  respect,  the  proportion 
of  marriages  ending  in  divorce  is  only  about  three-seve'nths  as 
great;  in  France,  which  stands  next,  it  is  a  little  more  than 
one-third  as  great,  and  in  England  and  Wales  it  is  only  about 
one-thirtieth  as  great. 

There  are  two  sides  to  this  problem.  There  ought  to  be 
release  from  cruelty,  drunkenness  and  brutal  infidelity.  In- 
crease in  divorce  is  due  in  part  to  a  heightened  estimate  of  the 
individual,  and  a  proper  increase  of  individual  liberty.  It  is 
an  accompaniment  of  the  social  emancipation  and  greater 
economic  opportunity  of  woman.  On  the  other  hand  there  is 
a  boundary  beyond  which  liberty  degenerates  into  license.  Ex- 
cessive laxity  here  may  be  a  sign  and  cause  of  social  decay. 
Divorce  usually  implies  serious  defect  of  character  on  the 
part  of  one  or  the  other  of  the  parties,  or  at  least  sad  blun- 
dering. 

Unquestionably  the  divorce  laws  of  some  of  our  states 
render  separation  so  easy  as  to  invite  hasty  and  ill-considered 
matches.  Laws  that  fail  to  require  a  considerable  interval 
between  the  issuance  of  a  marriage  license  and  celebration  of 
the  ceremony  have  a  similar  effect.  The  lack  of  conformity 
between  the  marriage  and  divorce  laws  of  different  states  of 
this  Union  gives  rise  to  undesirable  complexity  and  confusion. 
Among  the  poor  mere  desertion  largely  replaces  divorce.  In 
certain  American  cities  special  "courts  of  domestic  relations" 
deal  with  cases  of  desertion  and  non-support.  Legal  penalties 

1  See  G.  E.  Howard :  History  of  Matrimonial  Relations.  Unj- 
yersity  of  Chicago  Press,  1904,  Vol.  iii,  chs,  xyii  and  xviji. 


674  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

"suspended  during  good  behavior"  prove  effective  as  motives  to 
reform.  A  probation  officer  aids  the  judge  to  develop  charac- 
ter in  the  erring  parties  and  rehabilitate  breaking  families. 

The  divorce  rate  is  about  four  .times  as  high  among  child- 
less couples  as  among  those  with  children.  The  lack  of 
domesticity  already  commented  upon  as  a  characteristic  of 
urban  life,  the  obliteration  of  the  neighborhood  in  the  city  and 
exacting  standards  of  economic  display  are  contributory  causes 
of  divorces.  Above  all  the  lack  of  the  ennobling  life  policy 
of  social  team  work  is  the  greatest  cause  of  matrimonial  fail- 
ure, as  of  other  social  evils,  while  the  development  of  such  a 
life  policy  as  a  distinct  social  tradition  and  as  an  individual 
motive  is  the  only  radical  cure. 

Art  and  Play. — Among  the  primary  groups  the  neighbor- 
hood stands  next  to  the  family.  But  during  the  impression- 
able years  of  childhood  the  neighborhood  means,  largely  if 
not  chiefly,  the  play  group.  Children  learn  a  large  part  of  the 
evil  that  they  know  from  each  other.  Children  are  by  nature 
little  savages.  It  is  of  great  social  importance  to  get  a  civil- 
ized being  into  the  group  of  little  savages.  And  the  civilized 
being  can  be  persona  grata  in  that  company.  The  unsuper- 
vised  city  playground  is  comparatively  deserted,  while  the 
supervised  playground  is  thronged,  for  the  knowledge  of 
games  is  a  social  heritage  to  be  taught  by  one  who  already 
knows,  and  the  children  can  teach  each  other  but  few  games ; 
and  without  supervision  the  big  boys  are  likely  to  break  up 
the  play  that  is  attempted.  The  play  leader  who  knows  more 
about  the  very  things  that  interest  them  than  the  children  do, 
who  excels  them  in  sports,  who  gives  them  the  time  of  their 
lives,  easily  gains  great  prestige  with  them. 

The  fundamental  lessons  of  social  life  are  readily  learned 
on  the  playground.  The  cat,  the  panther,  and  the  wolf  learn 
their  arts  of  life  in  play.  We  recognize  that  for  animals  play 
is  nature's  training-school.  It  is  no  less  so  for  man.  Active 
and  vigorous  play  is  the  normal  means  of  developing  the 
muscles,  heart,  lungs,  and  digestive  organs.  It  is  also  a  means 
of  developing  the  mind  and  nerves,  alertness,  resourceful- 
ness, and  self-command.  Moreover,  the  play  of  children  is 


EDUCATIONAL  AGENCIES  OUTSIDE  SCHOOL     675* 

social  and  is  nature's  opportunity  for  development  of  the 
social  powers  and  virtues.  Happiness,  the  common  welfare, 
the  success  of  the  game,  are  dependent  on  observance  of  rules, 
on  playing  fair,  on  admitting  your  own  fouls.  The  big  boy 
must  learn  to  stand  in  line  and  let  the  little  boys  have  their 
turns.  By  supervised  play  children  learn  from  experience 
that  civilized  life  is  far  happier  for  all  concerned  than  savagery. 
It  turns  out  that  even  for  the  bully  bullying  has  not  so  durable 
and  satisfying  charms  as  fair  play.  The  bully  is  easily  made 
to  satisfy  his  sense  of  importance  by  becoming  the  guardian 
of  order.  On  the  supervised  playground  the  grown-up  world 
becomes  the  ally  of  childhood  in  its  pleasures.  And  the  regu- 
lations of  the  grown-up  world  become  intelligible.  Not  seldom 
the  playground  actually  transforms  the  incipient  tough  into 
an  ally  of  the  police.  And  where  malicious  mischief,  petty 
pilfering,  and  juvenile  vice  had  abounded  the  properly  con- 
ducted playground  has  had  the  power  to  spread  about  itself 
an  oasis  of  comparative  immunity  from  juvenile  delinquency. 
It  cannot  give  brains  to  the  feeble-minded,  nor  replace  all 
the  other  agencies  of  social  education.  But  it  demonstrates 
the  fact  that  children  are  provided  with  both  the  more  indi- 
vidualistic and  animal  and  the  more  human  and  social  in- 
stincts, and  that  the  latter  respond  to  the  proper  natural 
elicitations.  Yet  we  allow  it  to  remain  true  that  thousands 
grow  up  without  a  chance  of  acquiring  a  normal  conception  of 
social  cooperation,  its  requirements,  and  its  advantages. 

The  introduction  into  our  schools  of  participation  in  self- 
government,  with  pupils  as  mayor,  police,  and  council,  and  a 
teacher  as  court  of  last  resort,  has  proved  a  means  of  develop- 
ing social  responsibility  and  the  social  virtues  and  of  giving 
vivid  instruction  in  the  elements  of  politics.  The  pupils  when 
intrusted  with  a  share  in  discipline  are  more  likely  to  be  over- 
severe  than  to  be  lax  with  one  another. 

Play  used  to  be  regarded  as  characteristically  the  affair  of 
children.  But  athletics,  mountain-climbing,  and  the  like  are 
affairs  of  men.  Moreover,  play  is  not  a  matter  of  bodily 
activity  alone;  art  is  play,  music  is  play,  literature  is  play, 
science  may  be  play.  Play  is  any  activity  in  which  we  engage 


676  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

because  we  like  to.1  It  is  the  free  play  of  our  powers.  In 
their  free  activities,  their  play,  men  are  prone  to  rise  high 
or  to  sink  low. 

To  open  avenues  of  normal  pleasure  is  one  of  the  meas- 
urelessly  important  social  aims,  and  that  not  only  as  a  sub- 
stitute and  preventive  for  destructive  pleasures,  but  for  the 
sake  of  the  joy  of  life.  The  commercial  amusement  business, 
like  the  grocery  and  clothing  business,  ministers  to  a  great 
inherent  need.  And  the  men  who  engage  in  it  have  as  good 
a  right  as  any  to  do  so  with  idealism  and  the  sense  that  they 
are  discharging  a  highly  important  public  function.  And 
society  should  insist  on  pure  pleasures  as  it  insists  on  pure 
food  and  competent  medical  practice.  When  we  contem- 
plate the  thousands  who  when  the  evening  whistles  blow,  pour 
out  of  our  factory  gates  weary  and  irked  and  hungry  for 
happiness,  and  remember  the  cheerlessness  of  their  homes, 
the  little  that  has  been  done  to  awaken  in  them  elevating 
tastes,  and  the  character  of  the  solicitations  that  surround  them, 
the  wonder  is,  not  that  there  is  so  much  vice  among  the  poor 
but  that  there  is  so  much  decency.  The  paucity  of  their  op- 
portunities for  the  satisfying  and  elevating  employment  of 
leisure  has  been  as  appalling  as  the  former  omnipresence  of 
the  saloon.  In  nearly  all  cities  we  still  tolerate  the  saloon, 
and  afford  no  adequate  substitute  for  it.  And  over  the  saloon 
we  tolerate  with  averted  faces  the  brothel  and  their  close 
seconds  and  allies  in  infamy,  the  low  dance  hall  and  degenerate 
theater. 

Play  must  be  in  line  with  our  instincts  or  predispositions. 
The  sex  instinct  is  powerful,  universal,  requires  no  education 
to  develop  it  and  it  costs  very  little  to  arouse  it.  Hence  the 
appeal  to  this  instinct  is  the  most  profitable  form  of  com- 
mercialized play.  Of  this  fact  full  advantage  is  taken  by 
the  theater  and  in  recent  times  by  literature.  This  commer- 
cialization of  sex  suggestion  and  display  is  intolerable. 

The  instinct  is  a  useful  and  necessary  inheritance  from  our 
animal  ancestors.  Its  abuse  is  perfidy  to  the  sacred  trust 
we  owe  to  posterity.  Moreover,  it  threatens  perpetually  to 

1  For  completer  definition  of  play  see  p.  365. 


EDUCATIONAL  AGENCIES  OUTSIDE  SCHOOL     677 

break  the  bounds  that  must  be  set  for  it  if  society  is  to  escape 
degeneracy  and  to  continue  to  advance  upon  a  human  level. 
This  instinct  will  take  all  the  liberty  that  society  allows  it. 
Our  grandmothers  were  shocked  at  the  waltz;  to-day  we 
think  of  the  return  to  the  waltz  and  two-step  as  an  austere 
reform.  Society  can  make  anything  seem  right,  even  to 
Roman  orgies.  There  is  constant  pressure  to  make  society 
draw  the  line  nearer  and  nearer  to  the  edge  of  the  precipice; 
as  manners  grow  too  lax  the  function  of  the  chaperon  in- 
creases and  finally  come  zenana  walls.  The  freedom  of  the 
sexes  to  enjoy  friendship  without  conscious  or  obvious  intru- 
sion of  any  physical  element  is  conditioned  upon  honor  and 
idealism  and  restraint.  There  ought  to  be  abundant  unem- 
barrassed association  between  the  youth  of  the  two  sexes.  It 
5s  a  shame  to  any  society  when  this  becomes  difficult.  To 
purge  the  speech  of  men  and  literature  and  the  theater  and  the 
dance  of  every  needless  play  upon  an  element  in  life  which 
takes  fire  at  suggestion  and  threatens  to  consume  the  social 
fabric  is  a  thing  greatly  to  be  desired;  and  so  likewise  is 
the  revival  of  old  and  the  invention  of  new  social  pastimes 
where  youths  and  maidens  may  freely  mingle  without  offense 
to  idealism  or  propriety. 

The  theater  embodies  a  great  and  precious  art.  It  ought 
to  be  institutionalized ;  which  does  not  mean  that  of  necessity 
it  ought  to  be  taken  under  public  ownership,  as  is  in  part  the 
case  in  some  countries  of  Europe,  but  that  it  ought  to  be 
adopted  as  an  approved  and  treasured  element  in  our  civiliza- 
tion. And  because  we  treasure  it  we  shall  insist  that  it  be. 
not  degraded  but  fulfill  its  possibilities.  Those  who  are  al- 
lowed for  profit,  to  take  to  themselves  the  tremendous  power 
of  publicity,  must  be  held  to  social  accountability.  As  society 
progresses  in  the  recognition  of  the  things  that  hurt  it  most, 
the  murderous  crime  of  evil  suggestion  will  come  to  be  identi- 
fied and  branded.  If  one  compares  the  numbers  who  attend 
the  theater  in  a  great  city  with  the  numbers  who  attend  church, 
and  realizes  the  effectiveness  of  dramatic  representation,  he 
will  be  able  to  appreciate  the  social  importance  of  the  theater. 
The  moving  picture  show  in  spite  of  the  possibilities  of  im- 


678  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

provement  is  a  tremendously  valuable  addition  to  the  resources 
of  civilization,  a  foe  to  the  saloon  and  other  baser  pleasures, 
with  great  possibilities  of  positive  good. 

Athletic  sports  appeal  directly  to  instincts  that  are  espe- 
cially strong  in  men;  they  are  among  the  most  effective  foes 
of  evil.  Because  of  their  universal  appeal  they  are  available 
for  the  young  and  the  uneducated  as  well  as  the  most  cul- 
tured. They  develop  the  body  and  also  the  powers  and  vir- 
tues, and  are  an  inestimable  addition  to  the  sum  of  human 
happiness. 

Gambling  also  appeals  directly  to  an  inborn  propensity. 
But  its  mischievous  results  cause  it  to  be  one  of  the  few 
things  that  are  almost  universally  condemned  by  the  thought- 
ful. A  plausible  argument  can  be  made  for  almost  every 
tempting  thing,  but  experience  has  the  final  word.  Games  of 
cards  should  not  be  condemned  because  they  have  been  used 
and  still  are  used  by  some  as  a  means  of  gambling.  That  is 
somewhat  like  the  judgment  of  those  who  once  condemned 
the  violin  because  it  was  used  to  furnish  music  at  indecorous 
dances.  It  is  true  that  any  game  that  is  good,  that  is  to  say, 
very  enjoyable,  may  lead  some  who  are  weak  or  who  lack 
serious  interests  to  spend  upon  it  too  large  a  portion  of  their 
time  and  energies. 

The  primary  quality  of  good  literature,  good  art,  and  all 
other  good  play,  is  that  it  is  enjoyable.  That  is  its  frank  pur- 
pose and  in  that  it  rejoices.  The  business  of  art  is  to  please 
and  not  to  teach.  Yet  when  art  becomes  degenerate  and 
portrays  disease  and  vice  it  does  not  say  frankly,  "these  are 
the  things  that  please  me,"  but  as  if  its  function  were  to 
te^ch,  its  apology  is,  "these  things  are  real,  the  truth  demands 
their  portrayal."  Science  must  go  where  art  need  not  follow. 
It  is  quite  true  that  what  art  portrays  it  should  portray 
truly.  Moreover,  it  may  even  portray  vice,  disease,  perfidy 
and  cruelty  as  parts  of  a  whole  picture  that  includes  other  ele- 
ments in  proportion  and  perspective.  But  it  always  chooses 
for  portrayal  that  which  gives  pleasure  to  the  artist  and  his 
patrons.  Art,  like  eating,  is  always  selective.  And  iT'hen  it 
selects  vice  and  faithlessness  for  the  pleasure  it  takes  1.1  vice 


EDUCATIONAL  AGENCIES  OUTSIDE  SCHOOL     679 

and  the  preference  it  has  for  unexacting  standards  of  duty, 
then  it  becomes  part  and  parcel  of  vice  and  perfidy. 

There  is  great  occasion  to  desire  more  art  and  play  and 
more  general  and  liberal  participation  in  their  pleasures.  But 
art  and  all  play  must  so  fit  into  the  scheme  of  life  that  it  does 
not  destroy  more  pleasure  than  it  adds ;  otherwise  it  is  on  the 
whole  bad  and  to  be  excluded.  There  is  no  good  thing  that 
cannot  be  debased  and  perverted.  Literature,  art,  and  other 
play  in  its  essential  nature  is  not  only  innocent,  but  it 
is  a  functional  part  of  the  unity  of  life;  it  is  priceless 
in  itself,  and  makes  life  stronger  and  better  .in  all  of  its  de- 
partments. 

Manners  and  Ceremony  as  Agencies  of  Control. — Manners 
are  properly  described  as  "minor  morals,"  and  ceremony 
has  been  called  the  earliest  form  of  government,  the 
original  material  from  which  both  morality  arid  law  have 
been  differentiated.  According  to  Professor  Sumner  the 
whole  life  of  most  savage  and  barbarous  peoples  may  be  re- 
garded as  a  ritual,  minutely  regulated  by  pressure  of  the  public 
opinion  of  the  group  and  fear  of  the  divinities,  which  together 
enforced  the  customary  forms  of  procedure.  Ceremony  be- 
comes a  matter  of  taste  or  sentiment  and  the  violation  of  it  is 
therefore  shocking  or  hideous.  Like  other  matters  of  taste 
it  is  variable,  that  which  is  shocking  to  one  group  or  one  age 
exciting  no  disapproval  in  another. 

Ceremony  continues  to  play  a  large  role  in  the  lives  of  the 
civilized.  It  regulates  dress  and  the  manners  of  daily  inter- 
course as  well  as  weddings  and  funerals  and  the  conduct  of 
assemblies.  Happiness  may  be  quite  as  deeply  affected  by  the 
constant  personal  contacts  which  are  regulated  by  ceremony 
and  manners  as  by  the  occasional  matters  that  are  controlled 
by  law.  Etiquette  is  a  means  of  securing  the  desired  relations 
between  the  sexes,  as  well  as  between  the  young  and  their 
elders.  Moreover,  it  is  not  only  the  ceremony  which  serves 
as  a  defense  against  intrusion  and  a  regulator  of  intercourse 
in  daily  life,  which  is  an  agency  of  government,  but  so  also  is 
the  ceremony  of  occasions.  The  wedding  which  takes  place 
ifl  the  -'office  of  the  justice  of  the  peace  among  files  of  bad 


680  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

debts  and  tittering  bystanders  is  less  likely  to  be  the  com- 
mencement of  a  permanent  and  honored  union  than  one  which 
is  accompanied  by  flowers  and  music  and  the  forms  of  the 
church.  Life  is  governed  quite  as  much  by  appeals  to  the 
sentiments  as  by  appeals  to  the  reason,  and  ceremonies  are 
the  forms  of  speech  and  action,  which  serve  as  an  expression 
and  as  a  provocative  of  these  sentiments  which  are  felt  to  befit 
and  to  ennoble  the  conduct  of  life. 

Ceremony  is  art  in  conduct.  It  resembles  the  art  which 
renders  beautiful  houses,  furniture,  carpets,  draperies,  and 
other  objects  of  use.  We  may  despise  it  as  artificial,  and  in- 
deed, like  other  forms  of  human  excellence,  it  may  be  abused ; 
but  as  long  as  we  prefer  Chippendale  chairs  to  stumps  to  sit 
upon  in  our  homes,  we  shall  have  reason  to  prefer  that  con- 
duct which  gratifies  esthetic  sensibility  and  both  expresses  and 
tends  to  elicit  the  sentiments  of  civilized  beings  and  to  regard 
undiscriminating  contempt  for  ceremony  as  an  evidence  of 
imperfect  adaptation  to  human  society. 

The  Press  as  an  Agency  of  Social  Control. — The  press  is 
as  essential  to  the  democratic  control  of  activity  in  a  great 
nation  as  nerve  fibers  to  the  control  of  activity  in  a  vertebrate 
animal.  Without  it  a  democracy  of  a  hundred  millions  would 
be  like  a  vast  jelly-fish,  inert  and  certain  to  fall  to  pieces. 
Public  opinion  is  dependent  upon  publicity,  and  no  other 
medium  of  communication  is  adequate  to  make  a  vast  popula- 
tion into  one  public.  On  the  other  hand,  a  society  composed 
of  capable,  intelligent,  and  reliable  individuals  who  have  the 
means  of  prompt  and  pervasive  intercommunication,  is  prac- 
tically certain  to  become  a  true  democracy.  If  the  many  can 
think  and  act  together  they  are  more  powerful  than  any 
tyrant  or  oligarchy.  The  degree  of  their  freedom  and  power 
•to  promote  their  interests  by  organized  cooperation,  will  be  di- 
rectly 'proportional  to  two  things :  first,  the  intelligence  and 
reliability  of  the  individuals;  .second,  the  adequacy  of  their 
means  of  intercommunication.1 

1 C.  H.  Cooley :  Social  Organization.  Scribners,  1909,  Part  II ; 
and  chap.  12  of  Part  III. 

Walter  Bagehot :     Physics  and  Politics-    Appjeto.n,  1875,  chap.  y. 


EDUCATIONAL  AGENCIES  OUTSIDE  SCHOOL     681 

The  more  democratic  forms  of  modern  legislation  increase 
our  dependence  upon  the  press.  Primary  election  laws  convert 
all  the  voters  into  members  of  nominating  assemblies.  Candi- 
dates must  find  a  way  to  address  these  vast  assemblies,  and 
this  they  do  chiefly  through  the  press.  The  cost  of  this  ren- 
ders primary  election  laws,  in  a  degree,  undemocratic,  and 
creates  one  argument  for  official  organs  maintained  at  public 
expense,  or  payment  by  public  funds  for  announcements  in 
privately  owned  papers  by  candidates  whose  petitions  have 
been  officially  accepted,  and  the  limitation  of  expenditure  of 
private  funds  by  candidates.  The  popular  initiative  and 
referendum  and  recall  also  greatly  increase  the  dependence  of 
social  welfare  upon  the  mediation  of  the  press.  Switzerland 
simplifies  legislation  by  a  wise  cooperation  between  adminis- 
trative officers  and  the  press.  Instead  of  having  countless 
bills  presented  to  the  legislative  body  by  its  members,  the  ad- 
ministration is  expected  to  present  to  the  legislature  a  bill  for 
any  needed  law,  and  if  it  fails  to  do  so  upon  any  important 
subject,  although  any  member  of  the  legislature  has  the  right 
to  offer  a  bill,  in  practice  in  such  a  case  the  legislature  in- 
structs the  administration  to  prepare  the  bill.  Custom  requires 
each  bill  to  be  published  in  the  official  gazettes  well  in  advance 
of  the  legislative  session  at  which  it  is  to  be  acted  upon.  Thus 
public  opinion  is  intelligently  formed  in  advance.  The  legis- 
lature meets  two  or  three  times  a  year  for  a  session  usually 
continuing  not  more  than  three  weeks  to  perform  a  task  so 
simplified  and  clarified  as  to  involve  "no  more  strain  and 
anxiety  than  the  meeting  of  a  board  of  directors." 

The  importance  of  the  press  as  a  means  of  social  control 
is  by  no  means  confined  to  its  power  as  the  agency  of  demo- 
cratic politics.  We  have  seen  that  besides  government,  the 
other  most  powerful  agency  of  control  by  sanctions  is  the 
pressure  directly  exerted  by  public  opinion  and  sentiment. 
Public  opinion  controls  by  keeping  constantly  before  the  mind 
the  idea  that  certain  courses  of  action  will  be  rewarded  with 
reputation,  respect,  and  friendship,  while  other  courses  of 
conduct  will  be  punished  with  ostracism,  hatred,  and  contempt. 
The  ideas  we  have  concerning  public  opinion,  like  those  we 


682  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

have  of  law,  both  define  the  nature  of  the  acts  that  will  be 
rewarded  and  punished,  and  fix  the  degree  of  recompense  an- 
ticipated. It  is  the  idea  a  man  has  concerning  public  opinion 
that  governs  him.  Hence,  whatever  spreads  abroad  the  idea 
that  society  is  lax  in  its  standards  and  negligent  in  its  re- 
sponses, reduces  its  control  over  its  members,  and  whatever 
spreads  the  idea  that  society  is  exalted  and  exacting  in  its 
standards  and  emphatic  in  its  condemnations  and  approvals, 
enhances  its  control. 

At  this  point  the  press  assumes  a  stupendous  responsibility. 
It  has  the  vice  of  the  gossip  systematized,  commercialized,  and 
multiplied  by  the  powers  of  the  telegraph,  printing-press,  and 
mails.  It  is  the  unusual  that  has  "news  value."  One  em- 
bezzler or  bigamist  makes  news,  but  ten  thousand  honest  cash- 
iers or  faithful  husbands  make  none.  Crime  and  scandal 
receive  a  thousandfold  disproportionate  prominence.  In  so 
far  as  the  impression  is  created  that  vice  and  crime  are  prac- 
ticed and  condoned  by  a  larger  proportion  of  society  than  do 
in  fact  practice  and  condone  them,  and  the  impression  that 
the  execration  of  wickedness  is  weaker  than  it  really  is,  the 
effect  is  to  undermine  the  controlling  power  of  public  opinion 
and  to  make  society  tend  to  become  as  black  as  it  is  thus 
painted.  Evils  ought  to  be  reported,  but  not  with  conspicuous 
headlines  or  extended  or  gloating  details.  The  activities  con- 
stantly being  put  forth  to  improve  society  ought  to  receive 
much  fuller  public  recognition.  The  depraved  like  to  believe 
and  do  believe  that  the  world  is  worse  than  it  is.  The  good 
tend  to  suppress  knowledge  of  evil,  to  advertise  goodness,  and 
to  create  a  social  expectation  of  regular  and  approved  con- 
duct. If  this  expectation  were  not  on  the  whole  justified 
society  would  go  to  perdition.  It  should  be  true  and  all  men 
should  know  that  it  is  true  that  anti-social  conduct  can  count 
on  social  execration  and  that  socially  beneficial  conduct  can 
count  on  social  approval  and  appreciation.  This  is  one  of 
the  two  chief  means  of  control  by  the  sanctions  of  reward 
and  punishment. 

Nor  is  this  all.  Besides  being  the  essential  medium  of 
democratic  government  and  besides  giving  form  and  weight 


EDUCATIONAL  AGENCIES  OUTSIDE  SCHOOL     683 

to  the  sanctions  of  public  opinion,  the  press  exercises  an- 
other form  of  social  control,  a  control  that  is  not  dependent 
upon  sanctions  but  results  directly  through  social  suggestion, 
sympathetic  radiation,  and  imitation.  Without  regard  to  what 
the  government  may  do  or  what  others  may  do  to  us  or  think 
about  us,  each  one  has  an  inner  stream  of  ideas  and  senti- 
ments which  is  the  essence  of  life,  and  the  control  of  which 
is  the  individual's  prime  concern  if  he  wishes  to  make  some- 
thing of  himself,  and  is  society's  deepest  concern  in  its  at- 
tempts to  control  its  members.  Into  this  inner  current  of  life 
the  press  pours  a  constant  stream.  Thus  the  press  heightens 
or  allays  business  depressions,  popularizes  recreations,  inflames 
or  cools  the  passions  of  war,  defines  the  secret  ambitions  that 
direct  the  energies  of  men,  braces  or  relaxes  the  moral  de- 
mands that  men  impose  upon  themselves,  and  foments  or 
allays  the  jealousies  that  separate  social  classes,  and  gives  to 
attention  its  bent.  Attention  is  the  determinant  of  conscious 
life.  That  which  occupies  the  attention  of  men  is  that  which, 
as  conscious  beings,  they  are,  and  is  that  which  they  will  do ; 
while  that  which  has  no  place  in  their  attention  is  for  them  as 
if  it  were  not. 

If  the  press  has  such  power  over  society  then  the  press 
itself  must  be  controlled.  But  the  press  must  also  be  free.  Ex- 
perience has  demonstrated  that  the  suppression  of  honest 
opinion  is  perilous,  that  the  essence  of  freedom  is  freedom 
of  thought  and  expression,  and  that  if  we  lose  confidence 
that  on  the  whole  and  in  the  long  run,  reason  and  right  senti- 
ment will  respond  with  fairness  and  good  sense  to  adequate 
presentation  of  all  interests,  «then  we  lose  confidence  in 
democracy.  There  are  two  means  which  may  contribute 
toward  the  adequate  control  of  the  press  without  unduly 
limiting  its  freedom.  One  is  to  disseminate  higher  standards 
of  public  demand  and  of  professional  ethics  with  reference  to 
the  character  of  the  press;  the  other  is  to  make  sure  that 
both  sides  of  every  great  issue  are  advocated  adequately  and 
above  board.  To  this  end  several  expedients  have  been 
proposed : 

j.    Every  newspaper  should  be  required  to  publish  promi- 


684  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

nently  the  names  of  its  actual  owners,  so  that  the  power  they 
exercise  may  not  be  dissociated  from  responsibility  and  so 
that  the  interests  that  are  finding  expression  in  each  periodi- 
cal may  be  recognized.  Nothing  is  easier  than  to  distort  the 
facts  by  suppressing  portions  of  them,  to  deprive  the  public 
of  information  which  it  has  a  right  to  demand,  and  to  warp 
opinion  according  to  the  dictates  of  personal  and  party  inter- 
ests. 

2.  It  is  held  that  if  it  is  desirable  to  endow  educational 
institutions  it  would  be  desirable  to  endow  periodicals  which 
purvey  intelligence  to  the  masses  who  are  out  of  school,  that 
such  periodicals  would  be  free  from  the  pressure  of  the  great 
advertisers  on  whom  ordinary  papers  depend  for  their  income 
and  that  they  would  attract  the  disinterested  service  of  men 
as  impartial  in  their  devotion  to  the  truth  and  to  the  public 
weal  as  are  found  in  the  service  of  any  university. 

3.  The  experiment  has  been  tried,  although  inadequately, 
of  a  municipal  newspaper,  the  columns  of  which  are  open 
equally  to  rival  candidates,  and  opposing  parties,  and  to  which 
every  member  of  the  city  government  has  access  for  the  ad- 
vocacy of  measures  or  the  exposure  of  abuses. 

4.  It  is  desirable   that  it   become  a   recognized  conven- 
tionality of  good  editorial  practice  to  publish  signed  articles 
from  advocates  of  opposing  sides  of  every  great  issue.    As  a 
rule  people  read  papers  that  give  expression  to  the  opinions 
and  sentiments  with  which  they  agree  and  see  little  of  the 
statements  of  fact  and  of  argument  which  might  modify  their 
own   prejudices.      It  is   difficult,  and  speaking  broadly,   im- 
possible for  writers  to  do  justice  to  the  opinions  and  interests 
to  which  they  are  opposed,  and  equally  honest  and  good  men 
hold  opposing  views.     Particularly  in  the  great  struggle  of 
class  interests  it  is  of  the  highest  importance  that  both  sides 
should  be  heard.     The  papers  present  the  arguments  before 
the  bar  of  public  opinion,  which  is  the  court  of  last  resort. 
And  here  as  in  other  courts,  frank  advocacy  of  both  sides  is 
indispensable  to  justice.  This  practice  would  add  immensely  to 
the  interest  of  a  paper,  and  in  time  it  may  become  a  matter 
pf  editorial  ethics  and  of  public  demand, 


EDUCATIONAL  AGENCIES  OUTSIDE  SCHOOL     685 

The  Church. — In  earlier  centuries  the  control  of  the  church 
was  exercised  mainly  through  the  hope  and  fear  of  the  ex- 
ternal sanctions  of  reward  and  punishment.  But  the  church 
has  always  been,  and  to-day  is  mainly,  an  agency  for  dis- 
seminating ideas  and  evoking  sentiments  which  shape  the  inner 
springs  of  conduct. 

The  experience  of  the  past  leaves  it  at  least  very  doubt- 
ful whether  an  adequate  system  of  social  control  without  re- 
ligion is  possible.  Religion  is  of  three  types : 

First  is  the  religion  of  fear.  Second  is  the  religion  of 
unconscious  pragmatism,  that  is  to  say  religion  which  adopts, 
exalts  and  disseminates  ideas  because  they  work  well.  Such 
ideas  are  believed  because  they  prove  to  be  inspiring  or  consol- 
ing or  to  have  the  power  to  repress  or  elicit  conduct.  The 
religion  of  unconscious  pragmatism  abounds  in  cherished 
ideas  concerning  that  which  is  beyond  the  range  of  human 
knowledge  or  objective  test.  Third  is  social  religion,  or  the 
religion  of  humanity,  or  the  religion  of  service.  Elements  of 
all  three  kinds  combine  readily  into  one  creed.  Religion  of  the 
third  type,  at  least,  is  on  the  increase. 

"There  is  no  one  belief  or  set  of  beliefs  which  constitutes, 
a  religion.  We  are  apt  to  suppose  that  every  creed  must  teach 
a  belief  in 'a  god  or  gods,  in  an  immortal  soul,  and  in  a  divine 
government  of  the  world.  The  parliament  of  religions  which 
lately  met  in  Chicago,  announced  in  its  preliminary  call  these 
elements  as  essential  to  the  idea  of  religion. 

"No  mistake  could  be  greater.  The  religion  which  to-day 
counts  the  largest  number  of  adherents,  Buddhism,  rejects 
every  one  of  these  items.1  The  Jewish  doctrine  of  the  Old 
Testament,  the  Roman  religion  of  the  time  of  Julius  Caesar, 
and  many  others  have  not  admitted  the  existence  of  a  soul  or 
the  continuance  of  the  individual  life  after  death.  Some  be- 
lieve in  souls  but  not  in  gods ;  while  a  divine  government  is  a 
thought  rarely  present  in  savage  minds."  2 

So  great  has  been  the  social  role  of  the  church  that  Dean 

1  See  T.  Rhys  Davids,  "Indian  Buddhism,"  Hibbert  Lectures,  p.  29, 
and  in  first  series  of  American  Lectures  on  the  History  of  Religions. 

2  Brinton :     Religions  of  Primitive  Peoples,  p.  28. 


686  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

Stanley  was  prompted  to  declare  that  all  history  is  ecclesiastical 
history.  To-day,  however,  some  believe  that  the  church  is 
obsolescent.  There  are  weighty  facts  which  seem  to  support 
this  belief.  The  mere  number  of  communicants  is  not  a  final 
test.  A  social  movement  may  fade  away  without  diminishing 
in  numbers  save  in  the  last  stage,  somewhat  as  the  ice  in  a 
lake  without  diminishing  in  area  softens  and  finally,  in  a 
night,  disappears  in  water.  But  there  are  two  considerations 
that  seem  to  give  proof  that  the  church  is  not  in  obsolescence 
but  only  in  transition  and  that  the  church  will  be  a  permanent 
necessity  of  highly  developed  social  organization: 

First,  individuals  need  to  create  for  themselves  and  for 
each  other  a  spiritually  helpful  environment;  that  is,  an  en- 
vironment in  which  ideas  and  sentiments  which  ennoble  life 
are  communicated  and  heightened  by  social  suggestion  and 
sympathetic  radiation  so  as  to  give  stable  character  to  the 
subconscious  set.  We  must  recall 1  that  the  same  human  organ- 
ism may  be  set  to  play  any  tune  from  "The  Messiah"  to  "The 
Devil's  Hornpipe,"  that  potentially  man  has  as  many  stories 
as  a  skyscraper  and  he  needs  an  elevator  if  he  wishes  to  live 
on  the  highest  level,  that  man  is  like  a  watch  that  must  be 
wound  up  or  it  is  sure  to  run  down,  like  an  engine  propelled 
by  storage  batteries  that  must  frequently  be  recharged,  that, 
in  literal  phraseology,  human  life  is  the  most  variable  of 
phenomena  and  that  it  is  a  matter  of  cause  and  effect,  and 
we  can  expect  the  best  effects  in  character  and  work  and  worth, 
only  on  condition  of  supplying  the  necessary  conditions.  And 
these  conditions  are  largely  to  be  found  in  the  regular  cur- 
rents of  social  suggestion  and  radiation  with  which  we  sur- 
round ourselves.  The  church  stands  for  the  deliberate  en- 
deavor to  seek  and  supply  the  social  conditions  essential  to 
the  highest  life. 

Religion  is  based  upon  discrimination,  which  recognizes 
the  ideas  and  sentiments  that  are  found  by  experience  to  lift 
life  to  its  highest  level.  Conversion  is  a  readjustment  of 
attention,  bringing  into  the  middle  of  the  stage  in  our  mental 
drama  the  ennobling  ideas  and  sending  away  from  the  spot- 

1  Compare  passage  beginning  on  page  299. 


EDUCATIONAL  AGENCIES  OUTSIDE  SCHOOL     687 

light  of  attention  the  ideas  that  drag  life  down.  Every  adult 
has  a  multitude  of  ideas  stored  in  memory  but  makes  habitual 
daily  use  of  a  few,  and  these  give  to  life  its  character.  In- 
stinctive propulsions  and  the  suggestions  of  the  general  social 
environment  are  sure  to  thrust  themselves  forward,  but  the 
ideas  that  differentiate  man  from  his  less  evolved  progenitors 
and  tend  to  raise  him  above  the  commonplace  must  be  dili- 
gently brought  to  mind.  Attention  is  to  life  what  seeds  are  to 
a  garden.  The  religious  man  selects  some  of  his  seeds  and 
does  not  allow  his  garden  to  be  entirely  wind-sown.  The 
religious  man  is  one  who  discriminates  between  the  ideas  that 
give  life  dignity  and  worth  and  those  which  drag  life  down 
or  anchor  it  to  mediocrity,  and  who  takes  the  necessary  pains 
to  keep  the  ennobling  ideas  in  the  fore-front  of  his  attention. 

This  description,  however,  is  true  not  so  much  of  religions 
as  they  have  been  as  of  religion  as  it  must  be  if  it  is  to  be 
a  permanent  element  in  advancing  civilization.  Historically 
religions  have  contained  many  debasing  elements  and  slighted 
the  most  ennobling  elements  in  the  life  of  the  peoples  by  whom 
they  were  believed.  And  every  religion  tends  to  become  laden 
with  trivial  non-essentials. 

Second,  the  church  appears  to  have  a  permanent  function 
not  only  as  an  agency  of  individual  development  for  its  mem- 
bers but  also  as  the  organ  for  giving  effective  social  expres- 
sion to  purely  ethical  aims.  Society  needs  one  organization 
with  no  commercial  ends  to  seek,  no  axes  to  grind,  in  order  io 
direct,  foster,  and  focus  the  ethical  opinions  and  sentiments 
of  the  community  upon  every  question  that  has  an  ethical 
significance  as  well  as  to  organize  practical  activities  in  pro- 
motion of  ethical  aims.  The  peril  is  that  the  church  may 
become  an  end  unto  itself  and  in  seeking  its  life  lose  it. 

To  deserve  perpetuity  and  power  by  effectively  discharging 
the  two  social  functions  to  which  reference  has  been  made 
the  church  is  perhaps  as  really,  if  not  as  badly,  in  need  of 
a  reformation  as  it  was  in  Luther's  day.1  Whether  we  will 

1  Both  Catholics  and  Protestants  may  agree  that  in  Luther's  day 
there  was  need  of  reformation  however  they  may  disagree  concerning 
the  changes  that  then  actually  took  place. 


688  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

or  no,  this  is  a  time  of  transition  in  the  history  of  the  church. 
For  the  sake  of  the  first  of  its  two  functions,  the  church  needs 
to  restore  the  emphasis  to  the  simple  essentials  that  constituted 
the  message  of  Jesus,1  and  that  are  the  common  property  of 
all  branches  of  the  Christian  church.  The  fact  that  about  so 
large  a  portion  of  their  creeds  equally  Christian  people  differ 
as  they  do  is  experimental  demonstration  of  the  non-essential 
character  of  these  divisive  doctrines.  The  instinct  of  partisan- 
ship leads  each  religious  body  to  exaggerate  those  features  of 
creed  or  practice  which  distinguish  it  from  other  sects.  More- 
over, those  items  of  creed  that  stand  most  in  need  of  defense 
are  likely  to  be  defended  most,  and  the  teachers  of  a  sect  often 
affirm  with  special  emphasis  that  unless  men  believe  the  doc- 
trines that  are  most  likely  and  fittest  to  be  disbelieved  they 
have  no  religion,  and  so  excommunicate  the  most  honest  and 
intelligent.  There  is  hope  of  a  great  world-wide  religious 
revival.  Even  in  countries  like  Germany  and  France,  where 
Christianity  has  so  far  lost  its  power  over  the  life  of  the 
present,  there  is  such  a  hope.  This  is  because  there  is  increas- 
ing prospect  that  Christianity  will  divest  itself  of  its  incubus 
of  outgrown,  man-made  creed  and  observance,  and  stand 
forth  in  its  essential  simplicity  and  power. 

For  the  sake  of  the  second  of  its  two  functions  the  reforma- 
tion which  the  church  requires  must  lead  toward  more  prac- 
tically efficient  organization.  The  first  reformation  broke  up 
the  catholicity,  that  is,  the  unity  of  the  church;  the  second 
reformation,  whether  it  comes  slowly  or  rapidly,  should  re- 
store a  far  broader  catholicity  than  the  first  destroyed,  ulti- 
mately and  ideally  uniting  the  right-minded  of  every  nation 
of  mankind  in  humanity's  common  enterprise,  the  establish- 
ment of  the  kingdom  of  God. 

At  present  the  church  is  handicapped  by  an  irrational  but 
fortunately  declining  sectarianism  which  has  no  adequate 
logical  ground  in  the  present,  but  a  sentimental  ground  in 
the  partisan  loyalties  which  it  perpetuates,  and  a  basis  in  still 
narrower  self-interests.  Here  as  elsewhere  group  loyalty  ap- 

1Adolph  Harnack:  What  Is  Christianity?  Tr.  Putnams,  1901.  A 
statement  by  the  most  famous  living  biblical  scholar. 


EDUCATIONAL  AGENCIES  OUTSIDE  SCHOOL     689 

peals  to  the  powerful  instinct  of  partisanship,  which  on  the 
inside  is  devotion  but  on  the  outside  is  blind  misunderstanding 
and  divisiveness.  It  is  the  same  instinct  which  makes  both 
patriotism  and  war  and  breaks  down  the  wider  international 
cooperation  upon  which  the  ultimate  civilization  depends.  The 
church  confronts  the  universal  social  problem  of  widening 
the  circle  of  cooperation,  in  part  by  subordinating  instinct  to 
reason,  which  as  truly  as  instinct  is  a  predisposition  of  man, 
and  in  part  by  recognizing  broader  relationships  so  that  they 
will  enlist  the  instinct  of  cooperation. 

In  the  country  denominationalism  largely  destroys  the 
dignity  and  the  power  of  the  church,  and  substitutes  divisive- 
ness  and  feebleness  for  unity  and  strength.  Sixteen  country 
meeting-houses  within  a  radius  of  three  miles,  and  fifty-two 
country  meeting-houses  in  sight  from  a  single  belfry  illustrate 
the  reductio  ad  absurdum  of  inefficiency.  A  thousand  souls 
do  not  form  too  large  a  parish.  Of  one  hundred  and  twenty- 
nine  rural  communities  recently  investigated  in  Illinois 
twenty-five  had  more  than  one  English-speaking  Protestant 
church  each,  where  the  Protestant  population,  children  and 
all,  was  but  two  hundred  or  less  than  two  hundred  per  church, 
and  where  at  least  one  of  the  churches  was  receiving  home- 
missionary  aid.  In  the  presence  of  endangered  youth  in  fac- 
tories and  slums,  thronging  immigrants,  millions  of  neg- 
lected negroes,  and  other  pressing  needs  and  urgent  oppor- 
tunities home-missionary  funds  are  squandered  to  maintain 
the  denominational  rivalries  of  groups  of  feeble,  struggling 
churches,  where  one  church  might  well  accomplish  far 
more. 

In  the  city  the  effects  of  denominationalism  are  as  bad. 
Where  two  hundred  thousand  immigrants  move  into  an  urban 
district  half  a  score  of  churches  move  out.  In  proportion  as 
the  church  is  needed  in  an  urban  district  it  withdraws,  seeking 
its  life  to  lose  it.  Miles  of  city  streets  in  the  quarters  in- 
habited by  laborers  are  innocent  of  a  Protestant  church,  while 
in  the  aristocratic  districts  churches  face  each  other  across 
the  same  thoroughfare.  The  whole  city  should  be  divided 
into  geographic  parishes,  and  the  church  of  each  parish  should 


690  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY 

be  strong  with  the  strength  of  the  united  church  of  the  whole 
city. 

The  second  of  these  two  reforms  which  are  required  by 
the  church  is  dependent  upon  the  first.  The  union  or  effective 
cooperation  of  sects  will  never  come  about  by  the  triumph  of 
the  speculative  doctrines  of  one  of  them  over  the  others.  Men 
will  gradually  moderate  their  respective  assumptions  of  in- 
fallibility, yet  with  respect  to  matters  of  speculation,  infer- 
ence, and  interpretation,  equally  good  men  will  continue  to 
differ.  They  should  be  free  to  differ  without  impairing  their 
standing  in  the  church.  The  only  basis  for  a  practicable  union 
or  efficient  cooperation  is  not  a  creed  but  a  purpose.  The 
personal  ideal  and  the  social  purpose  of  Christianity  are  the 
common  property  of  all  Christians.  To  the  student  of  soci- 
ology it  is  an  impressive  fact  that  with  Jesus  the  sole  test  of 
discipleship  was  service  in  obedience  to  the  purpose  to  bring 
in  throughout  the  world  and  in  each  particular  situation  the 
Kingdom  of  Human  Fulfillment,  in  which  God's  will  should 
be  accomplished  upon  earth  and  the  coming  of  which  his  fol- 
lowers are  bidden  to  make  the  first  of  all  their  prayers. 


BIBLIOGRAPHY 

The  following  list  necessarily  omits  many  books  that  might  with 
propriety  have  been  mentioned,  including  a  part  of  those  to  which 
allusion  has  been  made  in  the  text,  and  a  great  number  which  are 
available  for  use  in  connection  with  intensive  courses  in  special 
divisions  of  sociology.  Some  of  the  books  contain  matter  on  more 
than  one  of  the  topics  under  which  the  list  is  classified. 

It  is  desirable  to  have  a  selection  of  books  placed  where  all 
members  of  the  class  can  browse  among  them.  The  required  re- 
ports on  supplementary  reading  should  be  in  part  on  definite  as- 
signments, but  in  part  also  on  matter  chosen  by  the  student  himself 
as  a  result  of  his  own  exploration  among  the  books  placed  on 
reserve  for  the  course.  The  footnotes  to  the  text  will  be  of  assist- 
ance in  making  specific  assignments. 


STATISTICS  AND  METHOD 


*Ht»;-  New-York, 


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&j%ju*  r      <>«•%< 


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INDEX 


An  exponent  [  *  ]  means  that  the  citation  does  not  begin  till  the 
second  or  last  third  of  the  page.  No  exponent  is  used  where  there  is 
a  heading  to  aid  the  eye. 

Names  of  authorities  are  printed  in  italics. 


Accident,  97",  140. 

Accommodation,  333. 

Acquired  psychophysical  traits, 
213*,  215s,  277,  297. 

Activity,  conscious,   340,  342. 

Adams  and  Sumner,  105*. 

Addams,  Jane,  665*. 

Adornment  of  person,  499. 

Age  groups,  in  city  and  country, 
6os;  in  new  populations,  244*. 

Aged,  care  of,  175';  see  also  In- 
surance and  pensions. 

Agrarian  aristocracy,  32",  47. 

Agriculture,  evolution  of,  494. 

Alcohol  and  other  drugs,  292; 
sanitaria,  179*,  294*,  and  hered- 
ity, 248". 

Altruism,  222*,  224". 

American  Journal  of  Sociology, 
218',  2i9s,  22i3,  352*,  354*,  357s. 

American  Labor  Legislation  Re- 
view, 143*. 

American  traits,  explained,  70. 

Analysis,  340,  357,  388,  390,  406; 
unit  of,  436. 

Anarchism,   165*,  584*. 

Ancestor  worship,  559. 

Andrews,  John  B.,  i88J. 

Anonymity,   63*. 

Anthropology,  451. 

Approval  and  disapproval,  sensi- 
tiveness to,  223,  228*,  254; 
standards  of,  367;  their  varia- 
bility, 368;  see  Conscience. 


Arlidge,  J.  T.,  97*. 
Association,  302. 
Attention,   315,   479. 

Bacon,  Francis,  455*. 

Bagehot,  Walter,  309',  680*. 

Bailey,  W.  B.,  98*. 

Baldwin,    J.    M.,    iff,    443*,    443, 

444- 

Bancroft,  H.  H.,  533*- 
Bastion,  A.,  442*,  453*. 
Beggars,  180,  181,  183*,  189,  194*, 

198. 

Belief  and  desire,  311,  334*,  362*. 
Bentley,  A.  F.,  429*. 
Binet,  A.,  250*. 
Binet  tests,   250. 
Biological  causes,  211. 
Booth,  Charles,  107*,  293*. 
Brinton,  D.  G.,  453,  455*.  463*,  552*, 

559s,  568s,  685S. 
Biicher,  K.,  463*. 
Buckle,  H.  T.,  39'. 

Cannibalism,  497*. 

Carey,  H.  C.,  85. 

Carlyle,  Thomas,  46*,  310*. 

Caste,  33*,  118",  252,  396*,  429. 

Caullet,  P.,   16*. 

Causation,  18,  37s,  411*;  social 
302',  304',  305s,  307,  31 12,  335'. 
418*;  see  also  Social  suggestion, 
Social  radiation,  and  Imitation. 

Ceremony.  679. 


709 


7io 


INDEX 


Charity,  public,  173*,  191,  192,  203, 
205,  206,  207;  rural,  184*;  prin- 
ciples of,  189;  charity  organiza- 
tion societies,  194;  institutional 
and  non-institutional,  190;  co- 
operation between  public  and 
private  agencies,  173",  192",  2O71; 
Elberfeld  system,  193;  govern- 
ment supervision  of,  205;  see 
Types  of  poverty. 

Charity  organization  societies, 
194*. 

Chicago  Child  Welfare  Exhibit 
of  1911,  102*. 

Chicago  Juvenile  Court  Report, 
250*. 

Chicago  Vice  Commission  Report, 
296'. 

Child  Labor,  102,  102*,  289*,  291*. 

Children,  mortality  of,  98;  rear- 
ing of,  ico1,  106*,  181*,  245;  de- 
pendent, 172*;  myth  makers, 
3741,  554;  language  makers, 
510*;  see  also  Child  labor. 

Chivalry,    247. 

Church,  685 ;  organization  and  dis- 
organization of,  53*,  688s. 

City,  planning,  93;  public  conven- 
__  iences  of,  04;  and  party  politics, 
95;  training  mayors  for,  95*; 
birth  rates  in,  263*;  growth  of, 
necessary  to  rural  growth,  48*; 
characteristics,  60;  growth  of, 
rate  of,  65* ;  causes  of,  67. 

Clark,  J.  B.,  1 13*,  122*,  124. 

Class,  428;  see  also  Caste. 

Classification  of  social  activities, 
357,  380*. 

Classification  system  of  relation- 
ship, 529. 

Clothing,  evolution  of,  506. 

Collective  bargaining,  152*. 

Cologne  school  for  municipal 
servants,  95*. 

Coman,  K.,  185*. 


Commissioner  of  Education,  Re- 
port of,  1914,  101. 

Commissioner  of  Immigration, 
273?- 

Commons,  J.  R.,  123. 

Communication,  the  predisposi- 
tion, 221 ;  and  association,  305 ; 
arts  of,  378,  419;  and  density, 
50. 

Communism,  primitive,  520*;  see 
also  Socialism. 

Comparative  method,  378,  449. 

Competition,  I2is,  135*,  i6oa,  163, 
166',  649. 

Comte,  Auguste,  14*,  15,  364,  413*, 
463*,  47i',  571*,  662*. 

Conciliation  in  labor  disputes, 
154'. 

Condition  is  not  create,  127*. 

Conditioning  phenomena,  24. 

Congressional  Record,  159*. 

Conscience,  100*,  226",  228*,  318, 
367",  372,  392*,  541;  see  also 
Ethics. 

"Consciousness  of  kind,"  221,  222 
and  footnote. 

Constitution,  unwritten,  408*,  637*. 

Constitutionality,  139  footnote, 
152  footnote. 

Convalescent  homes,  179*. 

Cooking,  evolution  of,  492. 

Cooley,  C.  H.,  333,  381,  421*,  444, 
68os. 

Cooperation,  industrial,  154*;  bi- 
partite, 156';  rural,  185*. 

Corporations,  160,  167*;  see  Tax- 
ation of,  and  financiering,  and 
monopoly. 

Creeds  and  sciences,  362,  377*. 

Crime,  575,  597;  classes  of,  598; 
causes  of,  601*;  extent  of,  609; 
punishment  for,  611,  614;  indi- 
vidualization  in,  619. 

Criminal,  children  of,  174;  bio- 
logical traits  of,  228*,  599;  clas- 


INDEX 


sified,  599;  reformation  of,  620; 
see  also  Crime. 

Criminal  lawyers,  training  of,  616. 

Criminal   milieu,    182*. 

Criminal  procedure,  611,  615,  618. 

Cripples,    i8o2. 

Crises  and  invention,  479. 

Cross-fertilization  of  cultures, 
31",  373,  401",  482. 

Crowds,  78;  safeguards  against, 
perils  of,  81. 

Culture-peoples  and  nature-peo- 
ples, 403. 

Custom,  389,  391,  393,  394,  575'. 

Darwin,  Charles,  259*. 

Davenport,  C.  B.,  249*,  295*,  567*. 

Davenport,  H.  J.,  129*. 

Davids,  T.  Rhys,  685*. 

Day  nurs,eries>  174*. 

Death  rates,  65;  see  also  Health. 

Defectives,  176,  248. 

Democracy,  n,  33,  n83,  644,  680*. 

Deniker,  J.,  321",  242*. 

Denominationalism,  see  church. 

Density,  social  effects  of,  30*,  50, 
70. 

Dexter,  E.  G.,  36. 

Differential  profits,  112",  126,  136*, 
138,  155- 

Diminishing   returns,   43*. 

Diseases,  preventable,  282 ;  losses 
from,  285 ;  occupational,  287. 

Distinction  desired,  395*,  501. 

Distribution  of  wealth,  n8s;  re- 
lation of,  to  sociological  prob- 
lems, 96,  117",  132;  effect  of,  on 
health,  96';  effect  of,  on  mor- 
als and  culture,  100;  actual; 
103*;  secondary,  115*,  142;  finan- 
ciering in  relation  to,  n62,  IS72; 
equality  not  justice,  117*,  125*. 

Divorce,  673. 

Domestic  relations,  courts  of, 
673'. 


Domestication  of  animals,  496. 
Doubt  and  thought,  307. 
Dreams,   559*,   566". 
Drummond,  H.,  225*. 
Dugdalc,  R.  L.,  602". 
Duke,  Emma,  98*. 
Durkheim,  £mile,  463*. 

Economic  interpretation  of  his- 
tory, 31,  32*>  394. 

Education,  53*,  2532>  254,  261*,  282 ; 
aims  of,  652,  656;  second  na- 
ture, 297,  588*;  doubt  and 
thought,  307;  teaching  useful 
error,  313";  gives  life  its  con- 
tent, 352*5  and  social  control, 
656,  659,  665,  666;  see  also  So- 
cial control. 

Elements  of  social  analysis,  340*, 

357- 

Elite,  the,  327*,  328*. 

Ellwood,  Charles  A.,  443. 

Ely,  R.  T.,  IDS1,  138*,  152". 

Employers'  liability,   140. 

Employment  agencies,   187,  207*. 

Epilepsy,    178'. 

Error  that  works,  13*,  313,  587. 

Espinas,  Alfred,  456*,  459". 

Esthetics,  instinctive  discrimina- 
t  tion,  219s;  variability  of  stand- 
ards of,  219s,  231',  3i62,  503; 
relation  of,  to  ethics,  220;  types 
of,  23i2;  influence  of,  52,  56, 
657*;  conventionality  and,  502, 

'     SOS2- 

Ethics,  sociology  as,  4",  3S62;  eth- 
ical dualism,  228,  542*;  ethical 
standards,  34,  367,  371*,  541 ;  see 
also  Speculation  and  reality, 
and  Conscience. 

Ethnology,  451. 

Etiquette,  321,  679. 

Eugenics,  I782,  i8os,  203*,  251*,  258, 
281",  576";  see  also  Heredity. 

Evolution,  in  general,  I92;  biolog- 


712 


INDEX 


ical,  461,  649*;  distinguished 
from  eugenics,  258s,  281";  bio- 
logical, no  longer  visible  in 
man,  243,  279;  see  also  Social 
evolution. 

Exchange,  380*. 

Exogamy,  526. 

Explanation,  20. 

Factory  legislation,   139*. 

Fairbanks,  A.,  417*. 

Fairchild,  H.  P.,  269'. 

Family,  61,  181*,  590";  rehabilita- 
tion, 189*,  193,  196',  197*,  261*, 
263*;  evolution  of,  525,  572; 
and  crime,  604;  and  education, 

669- 

Fashion,  395,  575', 
Federal  character  of  large  groups, 

77- 

Feeble-minded,  178*,  249. 
Felony  and  misdemeanor,  598*. 
Fetishism,  558",  561*. 
Financiering  in  relation  to  distri- 

bution, 116*,  157*. 
Fixation  of  Social  Species,  480. 
Frobenius,  Leo,  463*. 
Froude,  J.  A.,  310*. 


Gallon,  Francis,  46*. 

Garden  cities,  155*. 

Garner,  R.  L.,  511*. 

Geographic  conditions,  24,  29,  37. 

George,  Henry,  148*. 

Giddings,  F.   H.,   221,   222s,   237*, 

360,  362,  436*,  463*. 
Gillette,  J.  M.,  70*. 
Goethe,  J.  W.  von,  654,  657*,  663*. 
Golden   rule,  592*. 
Gotzen,  G.  A.  von,  537*. 
Government    ownership,    94,    164, 

167*. 
Greef,  G.  de,  39*,  349,  35Q1,  362, 

408',  463*. 


Gregg ,'R.  P.,  511". 
Group  expectation,  390*. 
Group  marriage,  534. 
Group  of  two,  76. 
Gumplowics,    Ludwig,    40,     442^ 
482",  487. 

Habit,  215*,  297;  relation  of,  to 
custom,  394. 

Hadlcy,  A.  T.,  134*. 

Haeckel,  Ernst,  14*. 

Harnack,  Adolph,  688s. 

Health,  affected  by  poverty,  96; 
preventable  diseases,  282 ;  losses 
due  to,  285 ;  occupational  dis- 
eases, 287;  stunted  youth,  288; 
school  hygiene,  289. 

Henderson,  C.  R.,  143*,  145,  607. 

Heredity,  212*,  254. 

Hereditary  defects,  248;  and  ac- 
quired traits,  277;  and  crime, 
601. 

Hierarchy  of  the  sciences,   15. 

Hobhouse,  L.  T.,  261. 

Holding  Company,  158*,  163*. 

Hostility,    principle   of,   648. 

Housing,  87;  educating  the  public 
on,  90. 

Howard,  G.  E.,  525*,  527",  534', 
673s- 

Howe,  F.  C.,  65*. 

Howitt,  A.  W.,  530*. 

Hunter,  Robert,  98,  107". 

Huxley,  T.  H.,  II,  462. 

Idolatry,  558,  559,  570*. 

Imitation,  221*,  303*,  320. 

Immigration,  263,  267 ;  placing  im- 
migrants, 187" ;  and  crime,  2443, 
604*;  high  percentage  of  men, 

245- 

Immigration,  Report  of  the  Com- 
missioner General  of,  273*. 

Implements,  evolution  of,  490. 

In  and  out  of  activity,  340. 


INDEX 


713 


Independence  of   individual,  237*, 

307',  329,  352s,  3S32,  39i2,  404- 

Indeterminate   sentence,  620". 

Indiana  Board  of  Charities, 
620'. 

Indiana  Plan,  charities,  206. 

Individual,  the,  and  society,  431, 
434,  441",  588'. 

Individuality,  how  molded,  74*, 
437,  442* ;  see  also  Independence, 
and  Conscience. 

Insanity,  176";  paresis  and,  295*, 
296. 

Inspiration,  565. 

Instinct,  213";  "of  workmanship," 
not  a  true,  2i83;  "of  play,"  not 
a  true,  220*,  366";  "of  imita- 
tion," not  a  true,  221",  320*; 
parental,  225. 

Institution,  344",  405. 

Insurance,  iridustnal,  141*,  i8o2, 
185,  and  footnote. 

Intensive  agriculture,  48. 

Interest,  economic,  113;  intellec- 
tual, 658. 

Interest  groups,  639;  see  also 
Party. 

Invention,  of  ideas,  311,  552*,  556; 
a  social  product,  353",  478";  by 
animals,  458;  and  social  evolu- 
tion, 457,  477;  stages  of,  458", 
460*,  478;  play  as  an  aid  to, 
491. 

Jail,  624. 

James,    William,   567*. 
Jennings,  H.  S.,  209*. 
Jordan,  David  Starr,  254. 
Jury  trial,  615. 
Justice,  2252,  591",  593*. 
Juvenile  courts,  625. 

Kansas  City  plan,  charities,  206". 
Kant,  Immanuel,  549",  594s,  653". 
Keller,  A.  G.,  46s,  487'. 


Kellor,  Frances  A.,  188". 
King,  W.  I.,  104",  105,   138",  270*. 
Kirkup,  Thomas,  154*. 
Knee  I  and,  G.  J.,  296*. 
Kropotkin,  P.  K.,  225*,  521". 

Labor,  109,  no,  in,  112,  169;  dig- 
nity of,  consists  in,  37i2;  power 
.to,  537,  591";  see  also  Child, 
Wages,  Distribution. 

Labor  unions,  153 ;  incorporation 
of,  154. 

Land,  43ff,  i662. 

Land  values,  48,  49;  ownership 
gravitates  toward  tiller,  49";  un- 
earned increment,  148. 

Language,  22 12,  508;  artificial, 
517'. 

La  Vie  International,  425*. 

Law,  32,  132',  168,  i692,  197  foot- 
note, 207,  392s,  596,  643";  of 
criminal  procedure,  6n. 

Leadership,  58*. 

Le  Bon,  Gustave,  8i8,  639*. 

Le  Fevre,  5i48. 

Leffingwell,  Albert,  36. 

Letourneau,  C.  J.  M.,  453*. 

Liszt,  F.,  463". 

Loeb,  Jacques,  209". 

Lombroso,  Ccesar,  599*. 

Luschan,  Felix  von,  263*. 

Macmillan,  Wade,  290*. 

Maeterlinck,  M.,  658*. 

Magic,  552. 

Manipulation,    of    securities,    156, 

158,  i633. 

Marshall,  Alfred,  45. 
Marx,  Karl,  39". 
Mason,  O.  T.,  451',  452*. 
Matronymic  family,  531. 
Mayo-Smith,  Richmond,  99*. 
McDougal,  Wm.,  213*,  443*. 
McLennan,  P.  and  J.  F.,  527*. 
Medical     science     socialized,     65, 


INDEX 


260*,  291;  see  also  Health  and 
Preventable  diseases. 

Memory,  231". 

Metabolism,  236*. 

Methods  of  thought  and  proof, 
374,  576'. 

Mill,  J.  S.,  167,  654. 

Minimum  wage  boards,  151. 

Miracles,  567. 

Mob-mindedness,  63 ;  see  also 
Crowd. 

Money,  evolution  of,  523. 

Monopoly,  123,  135,  157",  160. 

Moral  sentiments,  367,  549",  587", 
S9!»  594?  see  also  Sympathetic 
radiation. 

Morality,  evolution  of,  541,  574* ; 
see  also  Conscience. 

Moral  law,  549;  see  also  Con- 
science. 

Mores,  483;  see  also  Institu- 
tion. 

Morgan,  Lloyd,  320*,  459*,  460*. 

Morrow,  Price  A.,  295,  296. 

Mulhall,  104. 

Muller,  Max,  512*. 

Mythology,  3742. 

Naivete  of  child  and  savage,  315*, 

3742- 

Natural  selection  in  social  evolu- 
tion, 398',  485,  576*,  649. 

N earing,  Scott,  gS3. 

Negro,  229*,  24O3,  243*,  279*,  6o8s. 

Neighborhood,  disorganization  of, 
6o82. 

New    York    State    Reformatory, 

250s;  Annual  Report,  601*. 
'Newsholme,  Arthur,  98*. 

Occupational  diseases,  97*. 
Oliver,   Thomas,  97*. 
Organization,  379,  409. 
Orphanage,  171". 
Osier,  Dr.  W.,  290. 
"Osmosis,"  social,  303,  306. 


Parasitism,  182. 

Parkhurst,  C.  H.,  296*. 

Parmclee,  M.,  209",  214*,  616*, 
625'. 

Parole  of  convicts,  207*,  619,  621*. 

Particularism  in  explanation,  39, 
266. 

Partisanship,  224. 

Party,  428',  639. 

Patronymic  family,  532. 

Patten,  S.  N.,  656'. 

Pauperism,  103",  107*,  182,  183*, 
192. 

Peace,  574',  630,  655". 

Pensions,  for  mothers,  173;  old 
age,  176;  see  Industrial  insur- 
ance. 

Personal  groups,  58",  74,  583". 

Peschel,  O.  P.,  463'. 

Phase,  a  mode  of  social  variation, 
389,  400,  415'- 

Play,  103,  2202,  291,  365,  656",  674 ; 
as  aid  to  primitive  invention, 
491. 

Point  of  view,  4. 

Politics,  637,  643;  and  progress, 
646. 

Polyandry,  534. 

Polygyny,  534. 

Poorhouse,  171*,  175",  176,  177", 
203. 

Population,  42,  268,  270',  419. 

Population  area,  43*. 

Population  pressure,  43,  47;  ef- 
fect on  non-agricultural  classes, 
45 ;  of  cities,  65 ;  sparseness,  ef- 
fects on  Americans,  70. 

Poverty,  107*;  affects  health,  96*; 
sickness  a  cause  of,  100,  179; 
affects  morals  and  culture,  100, 
io6s,  H2S,  187s;  personal  causes 
of,  io82,  169",  181,  2082;  types  of, 
and  their  treatment,  171. 

Practical  application  of  sociology. 
10,  I4:  346%  381",  382,  3832. 


INDEX 


715 


Practical  value  of  inexact  knowl- 
edge, 346. 

Predisposition,  215*;  general,  218; 
economic,  220';  social,  221 ;  rela- 
tive universality  of,  227. 

Press,  82*,  680. 

Prestige,  323;  kinds  of,  and  cor- 
responding social  types,  324, 
573;  grounds  of,  328. 

Prevalence,  350*,  383,  417*. 

Priestly  religion,  564. 

Prison  Association,  National, 
610*. 

Private  initiative  in  social  service, 
89',  174',  I928. 

Problem  phenomena,  22. 

Profit  sharing,  154*. 

Property  and  commerce,  evolution 
of,  Sip- 

Prophetic  religion,  564. 

Prostitution,  249',  296. 

Psychology,  data  furnished  by,  to 
sociology,  314,  340;  relation  of, 
to  sociology,  354,  361. 

Psychophysical  conditions,  25. 

Public  opinion,  133. 

Public  sentiment  as  agency  of  so- 
cial control,  634. 

Quetelet,  L.  A.,  413'- 

Race,  differences  in,  229,  231*,  234, 
236*,  239,  244,  2532,  463';  differ- 
ences in,  distinguished  from  cul- 
tural differences,  242. 

Radical  and  conservative,  415. 

Rational  acceptance,  398,  400*. 

Ratzel,  Friedrich,  280",  463*,  464*, 

5H8. 

Ratsenhofer,  G.,  237*,  429*. 
Reason,  220*,  225*,  232*,  460*. 
Reasonableness  of  good  conduct, 

592,  653a. 

Recreation.    See  Play. 
Reflex  action,  215. 


Reliability,  588*. 

Religion,  18,  35,  363*,  564,  571,  685 ; 

evolution    of,    551 ;    homologies 

in,  569;  legal,  632. 
Riis,  Jacob,  107*. 
Rivers,  W.  A.  R.,  530*,  531*. 
Roads,  50,  54",  i862. 
Roberty,  E.  de,  i68. 
Romanes,  G.  J.,  510",  513. 
Roosevelt,  Theodore,  260*,  614*. 
Ross,  E.  A.,  75s,  82',  227s,  324,  546', 

S8i3,  5878,  598,  648*. 
Rowntree,  B.  S.,  99*,  107*. 
Royce,  Josiah,  655. 
Rural  conditions,  42,  51,  74*,  263*; 

hamlet,  51;  village,  55. 
Ruskin,  John,  504',  657*. 
Rylands,  L.  G.,  604. 

Sacrifice,  so-called  "law"  of,  586*, 
592s,  594- 

Salutations,  321. 

"Savage"  character,  227,  318*,  464. 

Scarcity,  of  managerial  positions, 
118*,  130;  of  managerial  ability, 
129. 

School,  consolidated  rural,  54; 
attendance  at,  by  the  poor,  101 ; 
retarded  children  in,  102,  251*; 
and  the  immigrant,  275*. 

School  hygiene,  289. 

School  lunches,  174*. 

Schuyler,  J.  E.,  625'. 

Sciences,  their  fields,  how  defined, 
22;  how  they  differ  from  mere 
speculation,  376" ;  see  also  Spec- 
ulation and  Reality,  and  Creeds. 

Scientific  laws,  20,  345*. 

Second  nature,  297;  and  crime, 
603'- 

Sect,  428'. 

Self-assertion  and  self-subordina- 
tion, 223*,  237*. 

Sensation,  keenness  of,  230*. 

Sentiments,   not   necessarily  pro- 


INDEX 


gressive,  368*,  373*;  see  also 
Moral  sentiments. 

Sex,  247;  differences  between  men 
and  women,  228*,  236*,  245,  246; 
reproductive  instinct,  229;  nu- 
merical proportions,  245"  and 
note;  and  outbreeding,  258*; 
and  variation,  278* ;  social  con- 
trol of,  590. 

Sickness  and  poverty,  100,  179. 

Sighele,  Scipio,  80*. 

Simmel,  Georg,  39*,  77*,  304,  345*. 

Slavery,  536. 

Small,  Albion  W.,  359*,  361*,  429*. 

Smith,  Adam,  109. 

Smithsonian  Contributions  to 
Knowledge,  530*. 

Social  conditions  (causes),  25*; 
see  also  Causation,  social. 

Social  control,  agencies  of,  74*, 
595,  632,  634,  665,  669,  679,  680, 
685 ;  need  of,  75*,  181*,  226',  581 ; 
in  interest  of  leaders,  313,  547*, 
587;  who  exercises,  332*;  by 
standards  of  success,  368;  prin- 
ciples of,  585;  types  of,  586*; 
perversion  of,  586*.^  control  and 
enlightenment,  587 ;  personality 
not  law,  588;  see  also  Social 
Causation. 

Social  evolution,  distinct  from 
biological,  25*,  21  Is,  226",  243, 
279*,  281,  282,  454;  five  methods 
of  progress,  281 ;  antiquity  of, 
454;  but  continuous  with  it, 
456,  462*;  stages  of,  according 
to  Sutherland,  463;  stages  of, 
according  to  Vierkandt,  Stein- 
metz  and  Comte,  469;  economic 
types  of,  471 ;  theory  of,  474, 
477*;  stages  of,  571. 

Social  Forces  Error,  25,  note ;  218" 
and  note;  227,  note. 

Social  order,  the  natural,  411. 

Social  practices,  373. 


Social  process,  303,  414,  426. 

Social  realities,  essential  psychic, 
6\  46*,  344,  347,  350,  393',  432; 
their  three  characteristics,  350, 
351,  352;  a  fourth  kingdom,  381, 
405*,  409*,  414;  structural,  430. 

Social   settlement,  92*,  276. 

Social  spirit,  53,  371',  416',  591, 
655*;  see  also  Moral  senti- 
ments. 

Social  suggestion,  306;  determines 
conduct,  311,  314*. 

Socialism,   164*. 

Societies,  kinds  of,  424. 

Society,  essence  of,  301,  302*,  344, 
349*,  422,  426,  427,  429*;  three 
characteristics  of,  417,  418, 
419, 

Sociology,  3,  4,  8*,  13,  22',  345, 
354.  378*,  444- 

Sociophysical  phenomena,  347. 

Spahr,  Charles  B.,  103*,  105. 

Spargo,  John,  98*. 

Specific  productivity,   122*,   124. 

Speculation  and  reality,  4*,  312, 
313,  314,  3561,  362,  376'. 

Spencer,  H.,  14*,  15,  16*,  18,  325*, 
436*,  453*,  463*.  487,  528s,  561', 
573',  656'. 

Spinoza,  B.  de,  233*. 

Spirit-scarers,  556. 

Stages.     See  Social  evolution. 

Standard  of  living,  44*,  46*,  262*, 
269. 

Standards  of  success,  120*. 

Stanley,  A.  P.,  686. 

State,  origin  of,  538,  572*. 

Static  and  dynamic,  413. 

Steffens,  Lincoln,  607*. 

Steinmets,  376*,  463*,  470,  472*. 

Stock-gambling,   159. 

Stock- watering,   157*. 

Streightoff,  F.   H.,  185'. 

Strikes,   in,   155. 

Strong,  Josiah,  67*,  267*,  275*. 


INDEX 


717 


Subconscious  set,  298. 
Subjective  and  objective,  342*,  432. 
Sumner,    W.   G.,    165*,   406*,   453* 

483',  485',  487,  538s. 
Sumptuary  laws,  396. 
Superiority  and  subordination, 

304. 

Survey,  The,  284'. 
Sutherland,  Alexander,  464*. 
Symbols,  512,  517. 
Sympathetic  radiation,  316. 
Sympathy,  222",  224*. 

Taft,  W.  H.,  611. 

Tarbell,  Ida,  139*- 

Tarde,  G.,  39*,  303',  3321,  333*.  357, 
360,  383',  398*,  399,  403',  421*, 
436s. 

Taxation,  145*;  of  unearned  in- 
crements, 49s,  149s;  of  the  poor, 
146";  of  personal  property,  146*; 
of  corporations,  147*,  158';  of 
inheritances,  148;  the  "single 
tax,"  148'. 

Taylor,  Graham,  611*. 

Teachers,  pay  of,  151*. 

Technic  conditions,  24. 

Temperament,  213,  234*. 

Tenement  House  Commission  of 
N.  Y.  City,  107*. 

Thomas,  W.  /.,  479s,  490",  556". 

Thorndike,  E.  L.,  664*. 

Todd,  A.  /.,  540*. 

Tonnies,  F.,  412. 

Total  and  fractional  response, 
226,  232s. 

Trade,  evolution  of,  521*. 

Tramps,  l8ia,  183",  187",  195". 

Transportation,  50*,  86. 

Tuckey,  C.  L.,  s68s. 

Tylor,  E.  B.,  529*. 

Unemployment,    184*,     185,    207*; 

and  crime,  608. 
Unity,  the  social,  422,  426s. 


Valuations,  55,  3i6s,  364,  367,  503*. 

Values,  96,  585',  5863,  654. 

Variability,  of  social  activities,  12, 
316',  321,  383,  384,  386,  388,  389, 
659;  see  also  Conscience,  and 
Esthetic. 

Veblen,  T.,  225s,  369*.  396s,  397s, 
573*. 

Venereal  disease,  295 ;  and  hered- 
ity, 248s;  and  blindness,  249. 

Vice,  590,  597. 

Vice  Commission  Report,  Chicago, 
296s. 

Vierkandt,  A.,  4O3S,  405,  463*, 
469s. 

Violence,  as  an  agency  of  reform, 
167*. 

Visitation,  of  children  "placed 
out,"  172*;  visiting  nurses,  180; 
of  charitable  institutions,  191*, 
204s,  205,  206;  in  Elberfeld  sys- 
tem, 193. 

Visual  and  auditory  minds,  230*. 

Vries,  Hugo  de,  277. 

Wages,   1 06*,   no1,   122*,   124s,   138 

footnote,  270*. 
Walker,  Francis  A.,  109*. 
Wallas,  G.,  214',  221',  628*. 
Walter,  H.  E.,  253s 
War,  574s,  627,  648,  655'. 
Ward,  L.  F.,  40,  253',  473.',  487', 

66os. 

Warner,  A.  G.,  99*,  192*. 
Watkins,  G.  P.,  105". 
Wealth,  effects  of,  84;  forms  and 

distribution  of,  ch.  viii,  573s. 
Wealth  as  success,  118,  119",  :82S, 

262s,  326s,  369,  370s,  396s,  573*. 
Weather  influences,  36. 
Weber,  A.  F.,  66s. 
Weissmann,  A.,  277. 
Westermark,  E.,  534*. 
Wetterstrand,  Georg,  569*. 
Will,  226,  232s. 


7i8 


INDEX 


Willoughby,  W.  F.,  143*- 
Wines,  F.  H.,  604,  623',  628*. 
Woman,  228s,  246,  247,  264',  397, 

S722;   maternity,  229. 
Workhouses,  184*,  207",  624". 
Worlc*  view,  needed,  12. 


Writing,  measuring  and  counting, 

evolution  of,  517. 
Wundt,    Wilhelm,    I43,    2i2,    36cr 

436. 

Youngman,  Anna,  105*. 


(ID 


DATE  DUE 


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pec  : 


PRINTEDIN  U.S.A. 


A     000  628  337 8 


